Rising Sun
by TitianWren
Summary: [AU] Suffering has always been an integral part of Inuyasha's life. Now that some unexpected allies have appeared, though, he can finally concentrate on what's really important: Revenge.
1. A Prisoner's Recollections

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Inu-Yasha_, obviously, nor do I own _The Count of Monte Cristo_. And while we're at it, let's just add every commercially published piece of literature to that list. Rub it in.**

**Author's Note: There were just too many character parallels for me _not_ to attempt writing this, but I realize my writing has many flaws. _Monte Cristo_ is the inspiration for this fic, but I'm kind of using it as a springboard, not a direct source. The plot should diverge somewhat in the future.**

**Anyway, this chapter is brought to you by my currently open beta schedule (curse you, Ivan!), severe procrastination of other projects, and the number 10. It's also dedicated to my little sister, who has a fit every time _Monte Cristo_ is adapted to film, because they always screw up the ending. Enjoy.**

* * *

_Rising Sun_

Chapter One - A Prisoner's Recollection

* * *

The miserable, ragged figure huddled in one corner of the dark room, wide amber eyes staring into nothingness. His little piece of hell had no windows, no source of light except the thin crack between the bottom of a reinforced steel door and the rough stone floor. Even that only provided access for the weak, mercurial flickers of torchlight from the elusive corridor beyond. 

He didn't need the light to see anyway. His eyes had long ago become accustomed to the conditions of his imprisonment.

How he wished he could say the same for his nose. The smell of this place constantly threatened to overwhelm him with its ferocity — sweat, grime, urine, blood, and death. Mostly death. It permeated every stone in the wall, seeped through the crack beneath the doorway and filled his senses every second of every day. Most of the time he wished he would just die himself, slip away into oblivion, free from isolation and torment, free from the stench of imprisonment and despair.

In fact, he would have ended his life long ago, if not for the memory of _her_. For her alone, he would continue to endure this torment, the darkness and the putrid barrage upon his olfactory senses.

The sounds of the prison weren't much better. For the most part he kept his sensitive ears buried beneath long, matted hair, but even that didn't help drown out the screams of other youkai going slowly insane. Sometimes he listened all night to a fellow prisoner slipping off the deep precipice into madness, slamming again and again into a reinforced door, only to be continually and painfully repelled by the demon wards pasted liberally across the outside of every cell.

The caretaker would eventually show up and put an end to that disruptive nonsense. A permanent end.

With not so much as a glimpse of sun over the past four years, he lost track of time very easily, sometimes for weeks on end. Never more than a month, though. Yes, he always knew when another month had passed him by.

Shivering in the clammy cold of the stone room, nothing but a moldy pile of straw and the rags on his back to keep him warm, he curled into a tighter ball and wallowed in his misery. His mind cast back for some avenue of thought he hadn't already explored a million times over. At times like these he could hardly even remember his own name.

What was it again?

Oh yes…

_Inuyasha_.

**………**

**………**

"Inuyasha!"

A strapping young sailor whipped around at the sound of his name, golden eyes searching for the owner of the summoning voice. A tiny force slammed into his bare, sun-bronzed chest, followed by a slight stinging sensation.

He instinctively slapped it.

"Fine way to greet your employer," the flattened flea youkai intoned painfully, glaring up at him from the palm of his hand.

"I'm contracted for labor, not blood," the sailor retorted, glaring right back. "How'd you get out here anyway, Myoga?" His ship, the _Teiou_, hadn't even docked yet.

"I hitched a ride out with the customs officials," came the stiff answer. "Being a flea youkai does have its advantages, you know."

Inuyasha snorted derisively, then suddenly turned and barked a string of orders to some of his nearby shipmates. Wiping his brow with the back of his free hand, he refocused his attention on the flea. "So what's so important that you couldn't wait twenty minutes for us to put in to port?" he demanded unceremoniously.

Myoga eyed him suspiciously. "You tell me. Why are you three days late? And why is it you're suddenly giving orders to the crew now?"

"Captain's dead," the inuhanyou bluntly stated, running a free hand through his short, silver hair. "Someone had to take command, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be that pansy Hiten."

"Dead!" the flea youkai exclaimed. "What happened?"

In response he received a careless shrug and a scowl. "How the hell should I know? I'm not a doctor! The guy died!"

"He caught a human disease on the mainland," said a scornful voice from behind. Both turned to view the speaker, a tall, dark-haired demon who wore an expression of clear distaste. "A few others on the crew caught it as well, though none nearly as bad. Those of us with superior youkai blood were unaffected. I told you it was a mistake appointing a human for a captain, didn't I, Myoga?"

The flea demon scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, Hiten, you did," he admitted. "Although I still stand by my decision. This is most distressing news, though. I suppose that explains why you're three days late putting in."

Hiten didn't bother to conceal the scoff that bubbled up from his throat. "That's not why we're late," he sneered. "Your precious first mate here no sooner consigned the captain to a watery grave than he redirected the ship's course to Nishi-no-shima, breaking several laws under the new regime."

Inuyasha openly scowled at him. "You're the stupid bastard that promised the captain on his deathbed we'd deliver that damned letter," he retorted.

"Anything to get him to shut up," Hiten shot back, flinging his hands up angrily. The air around him crackled with electric energy. "The man was raving! Only a fool would willingly put into port at Nishi-no!"

"Well excuse me for honoring _your_ promises!"

"Nobody asked you to!"

"Hiten, shouldn't you be supervising the customs agents down in the cargo area?" Myoga diplomatically spoke up before the two aggressive males could come to blows over their disagreement.

The two continued glaring daggers at one another, locked in a battle of wills, until the elemental youkai snorted and wordlessly turned on his heels, heading below deck. Inuyasha scowled at his retreating back until recalled to his senses by the clearing of his employer's throat.

"Nishi-no?" Myoga prompted expectantly.

"Huh? Yeah," he grimly admitted. "The captain had a letter for some toad that lives there, Jaken or something, said it was important that it get to him. I wouldn't have gone except... well, Hiten promised the captain! He was frantic until that promise, but no sooner was it spoken than he settled down and died peacefully. I figured if he was so worked up about it..." He let his voice trail off, the triangular white ears on top of his head drooping with ill-suppressed guilt.

The flea demon still perched on the palm of his hand muttered something in a low voice, so quiet that even Inuyasha's enhanced hearing couldn't make sense of it.

"What?" he demanded, holding the small creature up to eye level so that he could better glare down at him.

"I said," Myoga hissed, his eyes shifting around nervously, "did you hear any news of the emperor while you were there?"

"Oh, that bastard." Inuyasha waved his free hand airly, his formerly somber mood apparently forgotten. "He's fine. Stuck up, but then, I suppose that's what you'd expect from royalty, even in exile."

"You saw Lord Sesshomaru?"

"Sure. He walked in while I was talking to that toad," he answered with a nonchalant shrug. "Commented on how he had smelled tainted blood and then demanded to hear news of the country. I told him to go to hell."

The flea youkai in his hand looked as though he were going to faint. "You told Lord Sesshomaru to go to hell?" he repeated, flabbergasted.

"He's already halfway there, from what I can tell," Inuyasha drawled, one corner of his mouth lifting in a definite smirk. "That island is so covered in demon wards that I'm still tingling. I can't imagine how he lives with it every day."

"You told Lord Sesshomaru to go to hell!" Myoga cried again, his voice still rife with disbelief.

"So what?"

"Your own brother!"

"Shut up! That bastard is _not_ my brother!" Forgetting the difference in status between the two of them, Inuyasha promptly squashed the flea demon between two fingers and stalked off, muttering to himself.

"Hey!" Myoga shouted after him. "I'm not finished talking to you!"

His cry was lost amid the racket of thirty sailors scrambling in their final preparations to put the ship to port.

**………**

"Kikyo, I beg of you to reconsider my offer."

The dark-haired beauty turned away with an expression of sadness in her eyes. "You already know my answer," she stated quietly. "I can offer you nothing more than friendship, Naraku. My heart belongs to another."

"Inuyasha." The name left his lips infused with such loathing that the young woman sitting next to him visibly flinched. "That pup is not worthy of your contempt, let alone your love. He can't even offer you a roof to cover your head, and yet you stubbornly stay by his side."

"He's been saving the money he earns," Kikyo said steadily. "Soon he'll have enough to buy a small house, and then he and I will be married. He may seem rough around the edges, but if you ever tried to get to know him, you would understand why I stay with him. I love him. I'm sorry, Naraku," she added with a sorrowful glance in his direction. A cool breeze wove its way past her, brushing against her cheeks like a lover's caress.

"_Sorry_," he snarled, his dark red eyes flashing with malice as he fluidly rose to his feet, towering over her. "I don't want your pity, Kikyo. I have half a mind to tear that miserable hanyou limb from limb the next time I lay eyes on him."

"You wouldn't," the miko breathed, standing to place a calming hand on his arm. He jerked away, his lips curling in a derisive sneer. "You wouldn't," she affirmed again as though to convince herself rather than him. "I would die if anything happened to Inuyasha. I don't want to live without him. If you are truly my friend, you would do everything in your power to protect the one I love."

Indecision flashed across his severe, handsome features. "You bear his absence well enough," he pointed out.

"Only because I know he will return. I pray every night for his protection at sea."

"And yet, his ship is three days late."

"The _Teiou_ will come home to port," she stated firmly, her smoky gray eyes taking on a hardened expression. "And Inuyasha will come home with it, safe and sound. We're going to be married, he and I, and I'll give up my position as a miko and become a normal woman."

"Such pretty dreams," Naraku sneered, catching hold of her upper arm and forcing her to look him in the eyes. "But I could offer you so much more than a mere hovel and an oft-empty bed, Kikyo. I'm moving up in the world, and I want you to come with me, as my wife."

She stared at him for a long moment before gently pulling out of his grasp. "Oh, Naraku," she murmured. "You just don't understand. Someday, when you find someone you truly love with all your heart, you'll realize that all the riches and status in the world don't matter, so long as you have that certain someone by your side."

He would have answered; the retort stood on the tip of his tongue, but their conversation was interrupted by the call of a young child.

"Kikyo! Kikyo!"

The miko whipped around, eyes resting on the little girl sprinting headlong toward her. "Sayo?" she prompted.

"Kikyo, the _Teiou_ has come to harbor!" Sayo announced breathlessly, bounding forward to snatch the woman's hand, dragging her back the way she had just come.

"It has? When?"

"It was spotted half an hour ago; it's docking now! Come on, come on!"

Naraku watched in immense displeasure as the object of his desire allowed herself to be pulled away from him, away from the shrine, down toward the docks. _That hanyou,_ he thought in disgust. _Someone needs to get rid of him permanently._ Someone unconnected with himself, the logical part of his mind added. If Kikyo thought he was involved in Inuyasha's death, she would likely never speak to him again. More likely, she would fly into a rage and pin him to a tree with one of her sacred arrows.

He winced at the thought of such a demise. He hadn't come this far in life just to be snuffed out by a heartbroken priestess. No, whatever happened to Inuyasha would have to appear to have nothing whatsoever to do with him. This would take some serious plotting...

And Naraku loved nothing more than serious plotting.

**………**

"You're joking!"

"I assure you, Hiten, I am perfectly sincere."

The flabbergasted elemental demon stared down at the flea youkai perched on his shoulder. They were supposed to be overseeing the unloading of the ship's cargo, but his employer's announcement had taken him so by surprise that he completely forgot the task at hand. "You're going to make that—that _hanyou_ captain?" he angrily demanded, still not sure he had heard correctly.

"Well, he was first mate," Myoga reasoned, rubbing two of his hands together. "Besides, the crew seem to respect him, human and demon alike."

"B-but, even after he put into port at Nishi-no...?"

"Actually, that's what put my decision over the top," the flea demon stated. "I highly value those who keep promises made, especially when those promises weren't their own," he added, unable to keep the slight edge from his voice. "As you were the one who made the promise, you should have also been the one insisting to follow through with it."

"Nishi-no-shima is off-limits," Hiten shot back. "Everyone knows that! If the government catches wind that we were there..."

"No harm was done," Myoga interrupted nonchalantly. "A simple letter was delivered. It's not as though you attempted to help the emperor escape his exile. Pity," he added under his breath, too low for Hiten to make out the word.

"Myoga, I'd advise you to reconsider. Inuyasha is one of the youngest men on board; he would be the youngest captain in your fleet of ships. He doesn't have near enough experience to hold such a position!"

The flea demon waved aside his concerns. "He went to sea ten years ago as a mere cabin boy. Trust me. He's grown up on the sea; he knows what he's doing. And what little he may lack in experience, he makes up for in instinct. My decision is made, Hiten. And here comes the lucky hanyou now. Shall we inform him of his good fortune?

"Inuyasha!" he called out to attract the silver-haired sailor's attention.

"What?" came the disagreeable response, accompanied by an unfriendly glare.

"Let the others attend to the unloading," Myoga commanded, motioning for him to put down the crate of oranges he was carrying. "I have some news for you."

Inuyasha eyed him suspiciously but obediently set his load down and approached the two supervising demons with apprehension. "What news?" he asked, his gaze darting between the tiny flea youkai and a very disgruntled Hiten.

"How would you like the _Teiou_?" Myoga inquired, stretching his four arms wide in a gesture that would have seemed grandiose if performed by a larger creature.

The sun-bronzed sailor ran a hand through his cropped silver hair. "How would I like it what?" he asked in confusion, a furrow wrinkling his brow.

"Captain! How would you like to be captain?"

The furrow deepened, accompanied by a reflective expression that seemed very out of place on the hanyou's face. "Me? Captain? Myoga, are you serious?"

The flea demon looked as though he would explode. "Yes, I'm serious!" he cried, hopping up and down on Hiten's shoulder. "Why does everyone question what I say? Is it because I'm so small? I am the one who makes the final decisions around here, remember?"

Inuyasha's expression, meanwhile, gave way to an almost amused look, one corner of his mouth curling in an unmistakable smirk. "Me, a captain, huh? 'Captain Inuyasha.' Yeah, I could live with that. You better not be joking with me, Myoga," he added in a warning voice.

"I'm not joking," the flea huffed. "The _Teiou_ is yours if you want it. What do you say?"

"Do I get a raise in pay?"

"Of course. Captain's salary. And if I'm not mistaken, that will allow you to afford your own house, meaning..."

"Inuyasha!"

The three men whipped around to face the docks, picking out the form of a white-and-red clad miko gracefully moving through the crowd of sailors, her eager eyes fixed on the inuhanyou.

"Kikyo," he breathed, transfixed by the mere sight of her after such a long absence. "Can I tell her?" he suddenly demanded of Myoga, a desperate gleam entering into his golden eyes.

"By all means, please do. I'm sure she'll be glad... to hear..." The flea's voice died out as he realized he was speaking to the wind. His new captain had already leapt off the ship toward his love.

"Well, I think that went well," Myoga stated, watching as the couple shyly reunited.

Hiten merely grunted.

**………**

"I knew you'd come back," Kikyo blushed delicately, her hands clasped in his as sailors brushed by on either side of them. She had to mentally force herself to keep her eyes on his face rather than allowing them to stray down to his bare chest.

"Keh. Of course I did," he stated somewhat gruffly, his own cheeks tinged pink beneath his tan. "Nothing could keep me away from you for long."

Her gaze dropped to the rough wooden planks of the docks on which they stood and the dark, glistening glimpses of water between the cracks. "I know that," she murmured, squeezing his hands as a soft smile touched her lips.

He loved that smile, the way her mouth would faintly curve as though she knew a secret the rest of the world could never even fathom. Kikyo didn't smile often, and it was all the more precious in its rarity. Even so, he wanted to see her smile more, to bask in her joy. She had too much responsibility for one so young, and Inuyasha longed for the day when she could put those cares behind her and truly become happy.

"Come on," he said, tugging her shoreward. "I have some news for you."

"Good news?" she inquired wistfully as she allowed him to lead her forward.

"Some good," he acknowledged as they faded into the crowd.

**………**

**………**

_Kikyo_.

What had become of her, the prisoner mentally wondered. Memories of her face alone kept him alive, kept him from falling into that void of insanity that forever loomed on the edges of his consciousness.

_Kikyo, Kikyo, Kikyo_.

She was the one good thing in his miserable life, the only person who had loved him the way he was, who had accepted him wholeheartedly. She was his ray of light in this stinking hellhole, his sole purpose for living in the hopes of one day being set free.

What had become of her?

Those days spent together seemed a lifetime ago rather than a few paltry years. She had sworn her love to him, declared that she would live with him and die with him. She had intended to give up her life as a miko, powerful though she was, in order to be with him.

His mind lingered on memories of her beautiful face, the porcelain-white skin and cloudy gray eyes. He could still recall the silky texture of her hair and the satin feel of her soft lips against his in the few times he had actually dared kiss her. Most of the time she was untouchable, a goddess among mortals, something to be worshiped and cherished.

And he had worshiped her. He still did.

_Kikyo_.

* * *

**A/N: Just for clarification, this fic should jump between present and past for the first three chapters. However, the flashbacks are _not_ Inu-Yasha's memories, since a lot of them contain things he couldn't possibly know. Let's just say it's a rhetorical device and leave it at that.**

**Also, I've found that there are two islands called Nishi-no-shima. One is in a cluster just west of the main island of Japan (situated in the Sea of Japan), and the other is south, lying just west of the Bonin Islands. The one I had in mind is the south one, as it's pretty isolated. I have no idea whether it can actually support life, just that it's a volcanic island out in the middle of nowhere. But since this is fiction, we'll just say that it's like a tropical paradise. If any readers have an issue with that you can a) quit reading, b) pretend it's a third, imaginary Nishi-no, or c) send a scathing flame for my personal amusement. Happy readings!**

**-Tish**


	2. Those Who Betray Us

**Disclaimer: _InuYasha_ is the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi, and _The Count of Monte Cristo_ is a product of the brilliant mind of Alexandre Dumas. I own rights to neither and am writing this story for my own twisted amusement, not for profit.**

**Oh, and some of Naraku's lines are taken directly from the English dub of IY episode #18. I couldn't resist. Call it a small homage to the first time I ever saw Sesshomaru.**

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_Rising Sun_

Chapter Two — Those Who Betray Us

* * *

The wails echoing through the stone prison held a particularly gruesome timbre to them tonight, as though every demon in the place had suddenly slipped into frenzied despair. The countless moans vied with one another as the owner of each voice tried to make his anguish heard above the overpowering din. 

The prisoner knew it was night, just as certainly as he knew another month had slipped by him. He felt his youki draining from him, the claws on his hands melting away into the rough, chipped fingernails of a human as his fangs and dog-like ears disappeared.

From an outside perspective, one might have assumed that in such a place he would be grateful for this brief deadening of his senses. True, the shrieks and groans of fellow prisoners became all but lost to his human ears, and he could even almost tolerate the overwhelming smells. But the truth was he dreaded this time of weakness more than all the hours in between each new moon.

He knew too well what lay in store for him.

Sure enough, the locks on the door slid out of place and the portal swung outward on screeching hinges. The feeble light of the torch-lined corridor flooded into the room, too much for even his weak human eyes to bear after sitting in the dark for so long, and he cringed away from it, away from the looming shadow silhouetted by the pale orange flames.

The caretaker had come for his monthly visit.

"So nice to see you again," the demon intoned in an oily voice as two spiritual guards rushed in and hoisted the prisoner up between them.

"Gatenmaru," he croaked in greeting, not bothering to lift his head. Hatred for the sadistic moth demon surged within his heart even though he knew that no means of retribution lay within his grasp. Especially in this weakened form, he reflected ruefully. He would have given anything to be able to tear that smug little sneer right off the caretaker's face and shove it down into his gut.

"String him up," the moth demon ordered while smoothing his inky black hair with one hand. In the other he mindlessly twirled a thin whip, the strap of leather at one end flipping carelessly through the air. "I do so love torturing humans," he mused as he watched his guards shackle the transformed hanyou to some wrist irons embedded high in the wall. "Too bad it's so discouraged these days, not like a century ago when rampaging through villages was part of a demon's everyday life. I'm just lucky to be in charge of a place that harbors a fair number of half-demons."

Inuyasha's ragged shirt had been stripped from him, and his long, black hair was shoved over one shoulder, leaving him helplessly facing the wall, hanging by his arms with his bare back exposed to the brutal caretaker. As the whip lashed over his skin for the first of many strokes, he couldn't help but hiss at the stinging sensation that coursed through his body.

Month after month, it was the same thing. He should have been used to it by now, but the fact was that his weaker human body, while less sensitive to sight and smell and sound, was far more sensitive to pain. When the night of the new moon finally passed, hours from now, the wounds he received would close up with little more than pale scars as testament that they were ever there. Until then, he would have to suffer in silent agony.

This one night always seemed longer than the twenty-eight previous combined.

**………**

**………**

"Damn that bastard Inuyasha!"

Hiten slammed his cup down onto the scarred wooden table, having drained it of yet another shot of sake. Several of the other patrons in the public house shot him apprehensive glances, and with good reason. He had come in almost an hour ago and had been drinking heavily ever since, his outbursts growing steadily louder with each fresh bottle brought to his little corner.

A few people quickly paid their bills and left, not liking the sudden surge of electricity in the atmosphere. The drunken elemental demon, meanwhile, merely fumbled to refill his cup, sloshing some of the liquor on his hands in the process.

"Did I hear you mention the name Inuyasha?" inquired a steely voice from behind him.

Hiten jumped, and his momentary surprise resulted in a ripple of lightning coursing through the air, mildly shocking the man at the next table over.

"Who the hell're you?" he slurred, ignoring the nearby yelp of pain as he turned to face the owner of the intruding voice. His slitted eyes narrowed to a squint, and he desperately tried to resolve the rotating triple image before him into one solid form. He could make out nothing more specific than long, flowing dark hair.

"I believe you and I may have something in common," the man dodged the question while gingerly slipping into another chair at the table. "Tell me, what is your grievance with Inuyasha?" The name left his tongue like an obscenity.

"That _bastard_," Hiten snarled, flinging his drink from him with rage. It smashed against the wall in a spray of strong-smelling sake. "The cargo steward outranks a first mate in this shipping company! I was paid more than he was! And that stupid flea didn't even offer me the _Teiou_! He handed it over to that... that worthless _half-breed_ without so much as a second thought!" He paused in his rant, helplessly looking around for his missing cup.

His guest motioned a passing server to fetch another, then prompted, "What exactly are you talking about?"

"I'm a full-blooded youkai!" the demon blurted, slamming his fists down on the table. A few sparks crackled around him, lightly scorching the wood. "I _deserve_ to be captain! Instead that mangy hanyou gets the job!"

"Inuyasha has been made captain of the _Teiou_?" This was unexpected. It could change everything...

"Complete with captain's salary," Hiten snorted, snatching his new cup from the server and quickly filling it. "So now not only does he outrank me, he can also marry his precious miko and live his perfect life forever!" He tossed the sake back, swallowing it in one gulp, completely oblivious that his uninvited guest had suddenly tensed.

"Is that so?" The man's tone of voice caused Hiten to pause in the act of refilling his cup, turning bleary eyes curiously in his direction. "Tell me," his guest continued slowly, "if Inuyasha were to suddenly—say—disappear, would the captaincy fall to you?"

The elemental demon gaped. "I-I'd be a shoe-in," he managed.

"Then why don't you eliminate him?"

"Eliminate him? Just who the hell _are_ you?" he inquired, his alcohol momentarily forgotten.

The wavy-haired man sat back in his chair with a cynical grunt. "Like you, I am one who despises Inuyasha. Now surely between the two of us, we can come up with some plan to dispose of him."

"A name," Hiten prompted stubbornly.

A short, bitter laugh escaped the man's thin, twisted lips.

"Call me Naraku."

"Hiten," he returned, settling back in his chair. "But you can call me your partner in crime."

**………**

"Myoga! What the hell are you doing here?"

The flea demon glared up from the palm of the dog-eared hanyou; once again he had been flattened in an attempt to suck some of Inuyasha's delicious blood. Of all the selfish nerve! It wasn't as though losing a few drops would kill him…

"I came for your wedding," Myoga huffed, crossing his arms in an injured manner. "Or don't you think it's proper that your employer attend the nuptial ceremony of his newest captain?"

He noticed, with some amount of satisfaction, that the young hanyou flushed a delicate shade of pink beneath his tan.

"H-how'd you find out?" he demanded awkwardly, looking around the shrine grounds for any prospective eavesdroppers.

"A town miko decides to give up her position to marry a hanyou?" Myoga retorted. "By now everyone knows about it! News like that travels fast, you know. So when is the ceremony to take place?"

"Dusk," the half-demon replied, swallowing nervously.

"Well, you two certainly aren't wasting any time, are you? Inuyasha, you sly dog..."

"What the hell are you talking about!" he exploded. "We've been planning on getting married for more than a year now!"

Myoga waved four placating hands in front of himself as though to fend off the verbal assault. "I didn't intend any disrespect, I promise you! But you have to admit, this wedding ceremony is rather sudden. You only just returned from your voyage yesterday. All the preparations are so rushed..."

"What preparations?" Inu-Yasha demanded naïvely. "We're just getting married. All the ceremony needs is me, Kikyo, and a priest. And what's wrong with doing it today? Kikyo and I both decided it would be pointless to wait any longer."

The flea youkai, though, didn't immediately reply, being too absorbed in a sudden coughing fit that had seized him. "When was the last time," he wheezed at last, "that you attended a traditional Japanese wedding?"

Inuyasha raked his claws through his short, silver hair, averting his eyes. "Well, I... I don't think I've ever actually been to one," he admitted quietly. "I'm not exactly the type of person people invite to those sorts of things."

Myoga released a sympathetic sigh. Even under the new regime where demons and humans were supposed to live together in harmony, half-demons were still greatly ostracized from the society of both. "No, I suppose not," he admitted reluctantly. "Let's just say there's a little more to it than the exchanging of vows, all right?"

The hanyou's gaze jerked down to him in alarm. "What do you mean?" he demanded apprehensively.

"Don't worry," his employer flipped his two right hands in a dismissive gesture. "Kikyo will be there to make sure you don't make an idiot of yourself. Speaking of which, where is the blushing bride?"

Inuyasha lifted his head, his triangular white ears swiveling around as he sniffed the air. "She's coming," he finally announced, a softness entering his voice. "She said she had an errand to run and told me to stay here. She's probably about—" he paused to sniff the air again. "Probably about five minutes away," he pronounced. He turned in the direction of her faint floral scent, detecting another mixed in with it, a darker, sharper scent that he recognized all too well. With a low growl, he promptly headed in the direction where the two scents mingled.

"Where are you going?" Myoga demanded, hopping up his arm to rest on his shoulder. "Didn't you just say she told you to stay here?"

"I'm going to meet her," the hanyou snorted. "There's no crime in that, is there?" He picked up his pace, a jealous flare surging through his veins. What was that bastard doing with Kikyo? She said they were only friends, but Inuyasha had seen the hungry glances he threw in the miko's direction when he thought no one was looking.

_Naraku_, he thought with disgust. The man had appeared out of nowhere almost a year ago and always seemed desirous to claim Kikyo's attention. And despite the shrine maiden's continued avowal that their relationship was purely platonic, Inuyasha couldn't help but feel that the dark-haired man was little more than an undeclared rival.

He heard her voice long before he saw her, the low, throaty tones reaching his ears like an elusive caress.

"...plan on travelling to Kyoto for a week. Inuyasha says he has an errand to run there, so we're leaving tomorrow. Then, when we return, we'll set up house in the north quarter of town. By then, Myoga will probably have scheduled the _Teiou_ for another journey. I'm still trying to convince Inuyasha to let me come along."

"It seems you have everything planned out perfectly," came the deep tones of that hated man. Inuyasha suppressed the growl that involuntarily bubbled up within his chest, instead lengthening his stride a little more. "It must be nice to see all your dreams finally coming to fruition."

Kikyo sighed deeply, and he could imagine the contented expression that must have been on her perfect features. "It really is. It seems I've waited so long for this day to come. I'm so glad you're here to share it with us, my friend."

A bend in the road brought them into sight, walking side by side. The miko in her red-and-white garb carried a couple of large, tightly wrapped packages while her male companion merely kept pace with her, his hands tucked into his dark sleeves.

"He could've at least offered to help her carry her things," Inuyasha grumbled under his breath. "Kikyo!" he hailed aloud, breaking into a run.

Both people turned their attention in his direction, Kikyo with a joyful gleam in her eyes and Naraku with quite the opposite in his.

"You came to meet me," the miko spoke softly. Inuyasha took the parcels from her and intentionally fell in step between her and Naraku. A smirk crossed his features as he observed that man move back to a more appropriate distance from the couple.

"Keh. I heard you coming a mile away," he stated brashly. "Where'd you head off to, anyway?"

"I had to find a wedding kimono," she answered motioning to the packages in his arms. "There's no time to have one made, so I borrowed one from a recently-married young woman. I got you some wedding clothes while I was at it," she added with one of her rare smiles. "I only hope they fit. The previous wearer was not quite the same… _physique_ as you are, shall we say?"

"I have to have special clothes to get married in?" Inuyasha inquired in confusion, glancing down at the worn haori and hakama in which he was dressed. His expression clearly denoted that he found nothing wrong with this current ensemble.

"Of course you do!" Kikyo retorted, her smile extending even to her usually somber eyes.

"You must forgive Inuyasha, Lady Kikyo," Myoga spoke up from the hanyou's shoulder. "He's not well versed in such traditions."

"Oh, Myoga! Hello. I didn't see you there."

"He came for the ceremony," Inuyasha volunteered apologetically, then added with a sheepish glance, "Is that all right?"

"Yes, of course. That's why Naraku has come as well. You remember Naraku, don't you Inuyasha?" She motioned to the dark-haired man who had fallen back a few steps behind them.

Inuyasha turned, his golden eyes fully meeting his rival's dark gaze. "Oh yeah," he said knowingly. "I remember Naraku all right." He didn't bother to bow in greeting.

Tension mounted in the air as the entire party stopped in the road, the two males locked in a mute power struggle with Kikyo glancing suspiciously between them.

"Inuyasha," Naraku at last conceded, breaking eye contact as a small smirk graced his lips, "allow me to wish you every happiness in your upcoming marriage."

The hanyou nodded curtly. "Thanks," was all he said, knowing that if he allowed his tongue free reign it would only upset Kikyo. The miko grasped his sleeve, silently motioning for them to continue on the road to the shrine.

**………**

"Let me get this straight." The sun-bronzed sailor paced the length of the small room, one clawed hand on his chin as he clenched his jaw. His brow furrowed in a thoughtful scowl, and Myoga watched his movements with open curiosity. "I have to wear this damned stupid costume," he gestured to the dark, short haori and matching pleated hakama that he had just donned.

"Yes," said Myoga.

"Even though it doesn't fit properly?" Thrusting one leg up in front of the chair upon which the flea youkai currently perched, he motioned to his ankle. The pants were fully three inches too short.

"There's nothing we can do about that at this late hour," Myoga shrugged.

"The haori's too tight in the shoulders as well," the inuhanyou complained. "I can barely move!"

"Just try to make the best of it."

"And the ceremony itself — purifying rituals, vows, sake exchanges, offerings…"

"Yes?"

"Why's it gotta be so damned complicated?"

"That's the traditional ceremony, Inuyasha."

"This is ridiculous!" he exploded. "Why the hell would anyone go to all this trouble?"

"That's what you have to do if you want to get married," Myoga answered with a sarcastic roll of his eyes. "Your other option would be not to bother with the ceremony and just live with Kikyo outright, but do you really want to take the woman you love and defile her in the eyes of society?"

The hanyou's mouth opened and then snapped shut again. "Stupid society," he muttered under his breath in a sullen surrender.

"So are you ready to go yet? The hour is getting late."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm ready. Monkey suit and all."

He reluctantly trudged out into the late afternoon air, heading toward the main shrine where he would wait for Kikyo's arrival. Naraku was already there, he noted with distaste, eyeing his approach with open contempt. Inuyasha glared a challenge, daring the man to say one word. He'd gladly rip his voice box out and stomp on it.

Naraku wisely kept his mouth shut.

The sun was sinking beneath the horizon when Kikyo finally appeared, accompanied by a couple of her fellow shrine maidens. Inuyasha felt his jaw go slack when he saw her approach, breathtaking in the pink light of the dying sun. The white wedding kimono suited her in its pristine simplicity, and her long, dark hair was dressed in an intricate manner, with combs and ornaments adorning it. He had never seen her look so beautiful, never wanted to forget this moment.

Kikyo shyly stepped next to him, gently taking his hand in hers. "Do I look all right?" she inquired a little timidly, her eyes shining.

He felt himself nodding, having too much trouble remembering to breathe, let alone having to grapple with actual words.

"You look very nice as well," she stated simply, her gray eyes fixed steadily on his face.

Inuyasha nodded again, still tongue-tied.

"Are you ready?"

Mentally beating himself, he nodded one final time, trying to swallow past the dry lump that had suddenly lodged itself in his throat. The bridal couple turned to enter the doors of the shrine, wherein awaited the priest and their future. This was where their life together would officially begin…

"One moment, please!"

The voice called out from the shrine gate, and the members of the wedding party turned in confusion to see five law officers striding toward them, the lead man holding up his hand in a gesture for them to stop. Kikyo and Inuyasha exchanged a curious glance but arrested their progress all the same, waiting to hear what the man had to say to them.

"You are Inuyasha, formerly first mate of the _Teiou_?" the officer inquired, eyeing the hanyou's ears suspiciously.

"That's right," he answered in a defensive tone of voice. "What do you want with me?"

"By order of the Republic, you will come with us for questioning!"

"Like hell I will!" he retorted, raising his claws in a threatening stance.

Kikyo stepped between him and this new opponent. "There must be some mistake," she told the officer, her smooth voice bearing a slight edge to it. "Can't you see we're about to be married?"

The man shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his expression nervous as he eyed the angry groom standing behind his graceful bride. "I'm sorry, miss, but this is a matter that cannot wait. We were instructed to collect this hanyou immediately."

"For what purpose?"

"Merely for questioning," came the evasive response. "He is to come with us to my Lord Kagewaki's offices to answer some questions."

Inuyasha scowled. "What the f—"

"Inuyasha," Kikyo interrupted his obscene rant, turning her calm gray eyes in his direction. "You should go with these men."

"Wha...?" he intoned, looking at her as though she had just grown a second head.

"Just go and answer their questions. We can have our wedding tomorrow when this dark cloud of contention no longer hovers over us. Please? For me?"

His claws dropped again to his side in silent acquiescence. "All right," he grunted to the guards. "Take me to this Kagewaki so I can answer his damn questions."

He felt her eyes on his back as he was led away, could practically feel the sadness and apprehension rolling off her in waves. He would be back soon, though. It was only a few questions. He would be back soon.

**………**

**………**

The whip cracked one final lash, tearing another wound into an already intricate pattern of flesh and blood; the prisoner hung limply suspended from the irons now, his strength having long ago abandoned him. His back blazed with pain, a mesh of gore and torn skin.

"You never give me the satisfaction of screaming," Gatenmaru observed with a disappointed grunt as he recoiled the whip. He motioned the two spiritual guards to release the prisoner from his bonds, adding, "I'll break you yet, hanyou. One day your wails will echo through every stone in this building, putting all the other prisoners to shame. Until then, I'll have to settle with enjoying the anguish you cannot hide from me."

He took two steps forward as the guards roughly jerked the prisoner around to face him. A light smirk graced his effeminate features as he took in the sight of the hanyou-turned-human's pain-ridden face. Inuyasha was far too wasted to attempt hiding even this much.

The moth demon extended one gloved hand, tracing a line down his victim's jaw. "Delightful," he murmured in sadistic pleasure. "It won't be long before you break. I can see the hopelessness in your eyes. Filthy half-breed," he spat out in contempt, suddenly backhanding the prisoner across the face. Inuyasha slumped to the ground as the guards released him, barely conscious enough to land on his stomach rather than the ruined flesh of his back.

A low laugh rumbled from Gatenmaru's chest as he advanced from the room. "See you next month," he called back, his words floating to the prisoner's weak human ears only a moment before the cell door slammed shut again, drowning him in darkness.

Inuyasha lay heaving on the stone floor, its coolness a boon to his sweat-laden skin. Numbly, he reached one arm up to shift his long, dark hair away from the open wounds on his back, praying for the morning and his demonic powers to return.

An image of Kikyo standing before the shrine flew unbidden into his mind; she was so beautiful, dressed in that pristine bridal kimono and looking after him wistfully. It had been the last time he had seen her, a picture he was sure he would carry with him forever.

He had known back then that the day was a pivotal one, but he had failed to recognize which direction Fate would steer him. He thought his life would begin anew with _her_ by his side; instead he had been thrown into this hellhole, the future he had anticipated nothing more than an illusion. If he had had any inkling that this was how things would turn out, he would have slain the five soldiers and fled the country with Kikyo thrown haphazardly over one shoulder. Instead, he had played by the rules of the law.

If he were ever given a second chance, he would know better.

The seconds ticked on, and the hanyou waited for the phase of the new moon to pass and relieve him of his wounds, knowing full well that only the external ones would heal with the unseen rising sun. He would probably carry his internal ones until the day he died.

* * *

**A/N: I love my reviewers! Um, in a non-creepy way, that is.**


	3. In Retrospect

**Disclaimer: _InuYasha_ is the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi, and _The Count of Monte Cristo_ is a product of the brilliant mind of Alexandre Dumas. I own rights to neither and am writing this story for my own twisted amusement, not for profit.**

* * *

_Rising Sun_

Chapter Three—In Retrospect

* * *

One claw dragged across the stone, gouging a long, thin mark into its surface, one of many in a row. In the darkness he could barely make out the set of marks in front of him, let alone the many others that decorated that section of the wall. Whenever he felt bored enough to count them, he merely ran the pads of his fingers over the grooves, a blind man reading his only calendar, month by month. 

In the outside world, dawn had broken a few moments before, returning his demonic powers to him. The spider web of wounds across his back had sealed and mended itself almost immediately thereafter. He still felt weak, but at least he was no longer riddled with the pain and fiercer emotions that accompanied his human form. Best of all, he had roughly twenty-eight days ahead of him before he had to face that humiliating experience yet again.

He settled back against the wall, idly wondering what sort of day it was on the outside. It was the same thing he wondered the morning after every transformation, the only time he knew for certain that it _was_ day. The loss of the sun in his life had been hard to bear at first, but by now he had grown accustomed to the idea that he would probably never feel its rays on his face again. Still, it was nice every once in a while to know that it was shining down on _someone_.

Amid the usual noises of the prison, his ears registered a faint scraping, one he had been hearing off and on for a while now. Rats or some other vermin building a nest, he concluded, trying to block the dull, irritating sound from his mind. He cast his thoughts about, trying to remember the world beyond this stone prison, trying to remember all the beautiful things he could no longer experience.

Aside from Kikyo, he missed the stars most of all.

With a heavy sigh, he thought back on the many nights he had spent at sea with only those celestial markings as reference points. His very life had been ruled by the stars back then, when Fate seemed so much kinder. The dark, oppressive ceiling of his prison cell mocked him now, keeping him separated from that endless expanse of sky he loved so well, keeping him trapped here with nothing but a bleak future to look forward to and a bitter past to reflect on.

His memories were all he had left, memories of the fading sunlight and the numberless stars dusted across the night sky, memories of the swell of the sea and the salty breezes that nearly overpowered his senses, memories of calm gray eyes looking lovingly back at him...

In the end, he knew, his memories would drive him to madness.

And yet, he had nothing else to drown himself in. Swathed in continual darkness and solitude, deprived of every common luxury of civilization, subjected to humiliation, he took the only avenue of escape available to him. He remembered... He remembered everything, hoarding each precious recollection as a miser would hoard his coins. Even the painful ones held far too much value for him ever to forget.

**………**

**………**

"Please be seated."

The words were spoken as a request, but as a soldier roughly shoved Inuyasha onto his knees, the hanyou realized that standing was never an option. He glared up at the uniformed man, receiving a mute sneer in return. Once they had returned to government grounds, with the safety of spiritual guards on the premises, the soldiers had become overconfident, manhandling their charge and completely forgetting that he could have easily slain each and every one of them on the road between the shrine and Lord Kagewaki's offices. The half-demon flexed the claws on one hand, never breaking eye contact while silently reminding the cocky soldier that he could still slit his throat before any of the nearby monks had the chance to intercede.

The man gulped and stepped back.

With a satisfied grunt, Inuyasha settled comfortably on the floor and turned his attention to the young lord kneeling behind a low, paper-strewn table. The original command had fallen from his lips, though he had yet to lift his eyes from the documents in front of him.

"You are called Inuyasha?" he inquired, still seemingly engrossed in reading.

The hanyou snorted. "If I say no, can I leave?"

With a mild amount of surprise, the young lord's attention jerked up, his dark eyes flicking over Inuyasha's person, lingering momentarily on his triangular white ears before dropping to meet his golden-eyed stare. "I don't suppose there are many inuhanyou in this world," he stated dryly.

"I don't suppose there are." The sarcasm dripped from his voice unrepentantly. Now that he had a good look at this Lord Kagewaki, he decided then and there that he didn't like him, and he didn't trust him. The man held too much of a resemblance to Naraku.

Completely unaware of any undue malice being thrown his direction, the young lord shifted his gaze slightly downward. "It would appear this little interview interrupted a prior appointment," he stated, observing the hanyou's ill-fitted wedding clothes. "I do apologize."

Inuyasha had nothing to say to this, so he resorted to his standard response. "Keh."

The young lord's eyes shifted back to the documents in his hand, and a long moment passed. Silence bore down on Inuyasha's shoulders like an oppressive weight; he shifted uncomfortably, clenching and unclenching his fists while trying to ignore the hushed atmosphere.

After another minute passed without his host making any signs of continuing their conversation, the stillness of the room finally broke him. "Are you going to tell me what I'm doing here, or not?" he demanded plainly.

"Why did your ship put in to port at Nishi-no-shima?"

The question materialized seemingly from nowhere, its speaker sounding as though he were merely inquiring about the weather.

Inuyasha scowled, a strange knot forming in the pit of his stomach. "Is that what this is about?" he shot back defensively. "We were there to deliver a letter, that's all."

"You are aware that any and all contact with Nishi-no-shima and its occupants is forbidden by order of the Republic, are you not?"

The hanyou pursed his lips. "Yes," he said shortly.

"Then why did you break the law?"

Inuyasha realized that lying would do him no good, much as he was tempted. "To fulfill a promise made to a dying man," he answered quietly, then added, "The monk on the island said that there was nothing harmful in the letter. If there had been, I wouldn't have delivered it."

Kagewaki's gaze again jerked up from his reading, eyes widening with surprise. "Monk?" he repeated.

"Yeah, one of your 'spirit guards,' the one that let me through the barrier. He read the letter first, said it was obviously harmless, and escorted me while I delivered it."

The young lord's lips thinned, indicating that he was less than pleased. "And what was this monk's name, pray tell?"

"Keh. I don't remember. I'm not even sure he ever told me."

"So this monk didn't consider you a threat?"

Inuyasha scowled, tilting his head slightly to the left as his amber eyes narrowed. "No. Why would he?"

A mirthless chuckle escaped Kagewaki's lips as he lifted a writing stylus, dipped it in a pot of ink, and jotted a couple of notes on a blank sheet of parchment in front of him. "You have to admit," he said negligently, "an inuhanyou appearing at Nishi-no-shima does rather cause suspicions. Especially when that inuhanyou is the former emperor's own brother."

"That bastard is not my brother!" Inuyasha snarled, flinging himself forward in an aggressive position. Kagewaki didn't so much as flinch, but out of the corner of his eyes the hanyou saw a couple of spirit guards—more monks—step forward, fingering their holy wards. Grudgingly, he settled back down on his haunches. "That bastard is not my brother," he repeated in a more subdued voice.

"Hmm. No," the young lord mused, eyes still fixed on the notes he was taking. "Half-brother, isn't it? After all, he was the old emperor's rightful heir, and you were merely the offspring of one of Inu no Taisho's mistresses."

"That's a lie," the hanyou growled, clenching his fists even as he noticed one of the monks take another step toward him. "She wasn't his mistress; they were married, one of those mor... morga..."

"A morganatic alliance?" Kagewaki supplied in a superior tone of voice.

"That's right."

"Well, that would explain a lot. Especially your animosity toward Lord Sesshomaru."

Inuyasha snorted. "He's got nothing to do with me. As far as I'm concerned, he can rot away on that island. That is what this is about, isn't it? 'A hanyou goes to Nishi-no, he must be up to something sinister,' right?"

"This is merely an inquiry," Kagewaki answered casually. "The Republic, after all, must look into these matters if we wish to maintain the peace of this land."

"And now that you know I'm not plotting some government coup, am I free to go?"

Their eyes met, Inuyasha's amber gaze filled with nervous apprehension and Kagewaki's dark stare contemplative. "You still broke the law," the young lord reluctantly pronounced after a moment.

"It was an oath of honor," Inuyasha replied stubbornly.

"So you brought nothing back with you? No other letters?"

The hanyou's eyes widened fractionally, and he swallowed. "No," he stated, feeling a very slight twinge of guilt. "I brought nothing back with me."

Kagewaki raised one dark brow as though surmising whether his guest was telling the truth or not. At last he nodded curtly and signaled to one of the guards. "Allow me to complete the paperwork, then I will tell the guards to release you. Go with them now."

A weight lifted from his chest as he arose, the concealed terror he had refused to acknowledge suddenly leaving him, like a cancer plucked from his very soul. He would be set free, allowed to return to Kikyo and the outside world.

Relief registering plainly on his young face, he turned from the seated lord and allowed two of the guards to escort him from the room, the back of his mind only dimly registering that these were monks rather than the soldiers that had brought him to this place. The lord's dark gaze followed him out; he felt it on his back until the doors shut behind him.

**………**

"Well?"

Kagewaki cast the question back to the darkest corner of his office, where the flickering lamps shed only cursory light, and certainly not enough to fully illuminate the shrouded figure hidden among the shadows.

"You are of a mind to let him go free?" a deep voice replied, idly curious.

"I don't believe he's a threat to the Republic," Kagewaki acknowledged. "Your informant said nothing of an oath of honor."

"Perhaps because there was none."

"Perhaps. But I'm inclined to believe there was. Besides, if one of the island's guards allowed him access..."

"That too is against the law, is it not?"

Kagewaki folded his arms, nodding curtly. "Certainly, but the fault lies with the monk, not with the hanyou. If anyone is to be reprimanded..."

"Allow me to deal with the errant monk." The figure stepped forward from the shadows, his heavy wrap brushing against the floor and only his jawline visible beneath the sharp-toothed baboon mask. Kagewaki idly wondered, for perhaps the thousandth time, where on earth the man had come across such a strange pelt, and why he chose to swathe himself in it.

The young lord puckered his mouth a moment in thought before shrugging carelessly. "As you wish, Lord Naraku. But as for the hanyou..."

"Friends of the Empire can be found in strange places," the voice beneath the mask stated conversationally. "Your own father, if I remember correctly, is an imperialist, is he not?"

Lord Kagewaki visibly stiffened at his words. "My father is dead," he said in a clipped voice, his tone brooking no argument.

The shrouded figure chuckled. "Of course. Forgive me, I had forgotten. At any rate, imperialists are hidden everywhere, waiting for the slightest opportunity to take back what they've lost. Are you willing to take responsibility for setting one loose to roam the country at will?"

The young lord snorted derisively. "I hardly think that hanyou is a threat. He's a sailor. He'll probably be out to sea again by next week."

"True. After a brief journey to Kyoto. Another informant tells me he has an errand to run there. Curious, is it not, that a hanyou with no connections in that part of the country should have an errand to run. Kyoto harbors many imperialists, does it not?" The question was asked casually enough, but it caused his listener to freeze, jaw clenched and eyes alert.

Slowly, Kagewaki licked his lips, his mouth suddenly seeming very dry. "The soldiers found nothing when they searched his ship, nor when they searched the rooms he leases when he's in town. He had no communication on his person, either, according to the men that brought him. We can prove nothing."

"Why do you need to prove anything? He has already broken a law and admitted to it. And even if he had not," the baboon-shrouded man continued conversationally, "he is but one hanyou. What is the life of one hanyou when compared to the security of the Republic?"

Even in the dim light of the lamps, Kagewaki visibly paled. "You would have me order his execution?"

"Err on the side of caution, my dear Kagewaki," Naraku intoned, lips twisted in the slightest of smirks. "There will be no one to mourn him for long."

"No one but his bride." The young lord realized he had struck a nerve when he saw a muscle ripple along the man's jawline. "What is your particular interest in this matter, Lord Naraku," he pressed carefully. "Why did you go to the trouble of hiding yourself among the shadows and masking your scent from that hanyou? Why is he of such interest to you?" The final question hung aloft in the air for a long moment, almost a tangible entity between the two men.

"Perhaps I merely believe the sins of the father should be visited upon the son," came the calm reply at last. "What do you think, Lord Kagewaki?"

He frowned and answered logically, "A man cannot be responsible for the actions of his parent." His voice held a note of apprehension in it that he himself recognized, and he had dealt with Naraku far too often to hope the mysterious man had not noticed.

"Some might say that a man is most likely to follow in the footsteps of his parent. That is the general prejudice, is it not? I met a man on the streets of Kyoto recently, Lord Kagewaki, an aged man of consequence who told me such interesting tales of you, and of how he had raised you among the nobles of the imperial court. I always did want to know where you learned such proper manners..."

"What do you want?" He couldn't fully squelch the desperate tone in his voice, his stomach clenching in nervous anxiety. He inwardly wondered what the old man was doing, wandering the streets. Hadn't he warned him it would be dangerous, that it was for his own good that he remain inside the manor Kagewaki himself had provided? He had kept him from prison, he had saved him from execution… the least his father could have done was obey that simple order to remain unseen!

Naraku's lips curled into a satisfied smile as he watched several emotions play across the magistrate's face. "I want merely for you to realize how very suspicious it would be for the son of an imperialist to allow a law-breaking inuhanyou to go free, " he finally pronounced with an air of innocence. "That one hanyou could ruin your career forever. And it isn't as though you would be doing an injustice, is it? You're merely doing your job."

For a long moment, silence settled over the room as Kagewaki stared flatly at the white fir of the baboon pelt, silently noting how it brushed against the floor but somehow remained pristine. Naraku never was one to dirty himself. Resignation registered on the young lord's handsome features, and at last he nodded.

"Good," Naraku smiled, turning to leave. "You're doing the right thing."

**………**

"Shouldn't he have been back by now?" Kikyo laced and unlaced her fingers together as she sat quietly, that simple movement the only outward sign of her inner unrest.

"I can't imagine that they would detain him for long," Myoga responded, bouncing on the floor to expend some of his pent up nervousness. "It was only questioning, after all. Trust me, if it were anything serious, they would have sent for me as well. I am his employer, after all, so I'm accountable for his actions, to some extent."

The shrine maiden shifted her gaze from the dark horizon, favoring the tiny flea youkai with a faint smile. "You're right, of course. Inuyasha will come back. He always comes back to me."

_Always._

**………**

He stared down at the page in front of him, silently wondering whether this would be his undoing or not. Another missive sat nearby, already folded and addressed to its proper recipient, but this one didn't need that formality.

A quick rap on the door broke the silence of the late night, and a black-and-yellow-clad monk entered. "You sent for me, Lord Kagewaki?" he inquired, briefly bowing his shaven head as a sign of respect.

"Yes. Have this letter delivered some time tomorrow," he stated, his voice sounding hollow in his ears. Picking up the folded note he handed it to the spiritual guard, who nodded and tucked it away in his robes.

"Will there be anything else?"

Kagewaki nodded, fingering the second parchment hesitantly. An instant later, he snatched it up, proffering it for the monk to take. "Those are your instructions for dealing with the hanyou."

The monk's eyes flicked over the page, surprise and unease registering on his features. "But no one is sent to..."

"Those are my orders," the young lord interrupted firmly.

"Yes, Lord Kagewaki. I shall see that they are carried out." The man bowed again before leaving the room as quickly as he came.

Kagewaki stared at the closed doors for a long time afterward, inner turmoil raging and gnawing at him. Whatever the outcome, he thought to himself, he would have no innocent blood on his hands. That alone would help him sleep at night.

**………**

Inuyasha heard the lock click and quickly sat up, watching the door swing outward. "It's about time," he drawled sarcastically. "I've been waiting for someone to let me out of this damn room for—what the hell?" He scrambled to his feet, backing up into a corner of the small enclosure as four monks processed in, armed with ofuda and sutra beads.

"This will be much easier on you if you don't fight us," one of them stated as they advanced, dark eyes hooded.

"Like hell I won't," Inuyasha retorted, coiling one clawed hand back, ready to defend himself. It was futile, he realized before he could even make his first move.

At least he would go down fighting.

**………**

_We feel it our duty to inform you that the hanyou, Inuyasha, who was brought into our custody for the purpose of questioning, has been found guilty of treason against the Republic. In this tenuous, fledgling period of our nation's history, we cannot look upon such crimes with any amount of allowance. For the safety of the Republic and its citizens, traitors must be dealt with according to the full extent of the law. As such, the aforementioned was privately executed this morning at dawn._

_-Lord Kagewaki, District Magistrate _

Kikyo stared unseeing at the piece of parchment in front of her, its fluid characters no more than vague shapes to her eyes. She felt herself falling both mentally and physically, the ground rising to meet her knees as her grip on the letter went slack. The single page fluttered down into the dirt, coming to rest next to her.

_Executed... he was executed..._

The words played themselves over and over in her head as she tried to grasp their meaning. Why couldn't she cry? She loved him—loved him more than life itself, it seemed—so why couldn't she shed even a single tear for his death? _It's not real_, she thought to herself, forcing the very idea into the darkest corner of her mind where it could not torment her. _It's not real, it's not real, it's not real, it's not..._

"Kikyo."

Her name. It was spoken so softly, so carefully, and she felt herself shatter at its delicate sound. Shuddering, she curled in on herself and ceased trying to control her emotions. They overflowed then, like the floods of a broken dam, unchecked and devastating in their fury. Her wretched sobs wracked her body even as she felt strong arms gather her into a gentle embrace.

"Everything will be all right," the voice soothed in her ears, but she knew it was lying.

He was dead. Her love, her hope, her life was dead. In the gnawing pit of her stomach she felt that sudden ache of loneliness and misery, that unquenchable sorrow that ate at her now, consuming every joyous feeling she had ever experienced.

Inuyasha was dead, gone forever, and she herself had sent him to that death.

Deep down, Kikyo felt a large piece of herself die that day too.

**………**

**………**

The scraping noise was getting louder, had been gradually growing in volume as the hours passed. The hanyou could have sworn it was right beneath his floor, but he felt too lethargic to actually investigate. Instead, he huddled back in the corner of his cell, arms folded around himself for warmth, and tried to determine whether it was a rat or something larger. If it was a rat that happened eventually to wander into his cell, he would make short work of it. Even raw it would taste better than the watery slop one of the guards slipped through the flap in his cell door every so often. Part of him really hoped it was a rat...

Then again, considering the sound was coming from beneath the floor, the rat would never make it into his cell. The solid flagstones were fit together tightly, serving as a barrier between him and the earthen ground. He remembered back to his first few days in this hellhole, when he had tried to pry one of the ungainly stones from the floor to see if there was any chance of burrowing out. His only result had been a set of broken, bloody claws. The flagstone hadn't so much as budged.

"Keh, lucky for you," he sneered at the imagined rodent, his voice hoarse from lack of use.

That scraping was really getting on his nerves.

Curiosity got the best of him, and he finally crawled forward, turning his head and pressing one triangular ear to the floor right above where the sound originated. He scowled darkly as he strained to hear its vibrations through the stone.

It had stopped.

Idly wondering if perhaps his mind was finally giving out on him, he stayed in that position for a long moment. Patience had never been one of his virtues, though. With a snort he pulled back... and immediately froze, amber eyes peering through the darkness at the flagstone. He could have sworn he had just heard three taps.

Leaning forward again, he sniffed lightly at the stone, trying to catch any sort of scent that may have seeped through the cracks. _What the hell is going on?_

A loud boom sent him scrambling back to his corner, eyes wide as the stone suddenly shot into the air and a burst of light flooded the room. He cringed away from the brightness, shoving himself back against the adjoining walls, his frenzied mind screaming that he had finally gone mad at last. The brilliant light died down, fading but not disappearing, and his senses were immediately filled with another anomaly.

"Free! Free!" a corded voice cackled maniacally. "Freeeeeee—eh? What the—! Where the_ hell_ am I?"

The hanyou turned wide, fast-adjusting eyes to the center of his cell, more specifically to the gaping hole in his cell floor. A wizened, wrinkled face protruded from below, owlish eyes scanning the surroundings in complete confusion. The intruder's gaze came to rest on him, and for a long moment, they stared at one another, stupefied.

Finally, the stranger's brows knotted together in indignation. "And just who the hell are you?" he demanded irately.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, moment of truth. How many of you went and looked up the word "morganatic"? Such a good word. My first literary encounter with it came while reading Agatha Christie's _The Secret of Chimneys_, perhaps my favorite of all that venerable lady's novels. Recommended reading for all who enjoy unconventional murder mysteries!**


	4. Tales of Old

**Disclaimer: _InuYasha_ is the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi, and _The Count of Monte Cristo_ is a product of the brilliant mind of Alexandre Dumas. I own rights to neither and am writing this story for my own twisted amusement, not for profit.**

* * *

_Rising Sun_

Chapter 4 — Tales of Old

* * *

Inuyasha blinked slowly, inwardly half-wondering if he were hallucinating or not. Suddenly, the old man's question registered in his mind, effectively snapping him from his stupor. 

"What do you mean, who the hell am I!" he retorted. "_You're_ the one who's just broken into _my_ cell!"

"Eh? I have?" The wasted head swiveled around, eyes darting about the room's interior. "This was _supposed_ to be the outer courtyard," he muttered to himself. "Either they moved it, or I took a wrong turn back when I hit that last patch of bedrock..." He was disappearing back into his hole, absentmindedly murmuring errant directions.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Inuyasha cried, bounding forward in one leap. His hand darted into the opening and he caught hold of the old man's tunic, hauling him bodily into the cell.

"What the—! Lemme go! I'll call the guards!"

The hanyou ignored the ancient youkai's meaningless threats, depositing his thrashing form on the ground in one corner and standing over him imperiously. "Tell me who you are, old man," he commanded. "A simple name will do. I'm not going to hurt you," he added, more as an afterthought.

The aged youkai had rolled into a protective ball the moment he hit the floor, as though he expected to be beaten within an inch of his life. Hesitantly, he looked up, his wide eyes glancing his captor over from head to toe. He sucked in a slow breath as though preparing to speak…

Inuyasha remembered a fraction of a second too late that this was also a movement used by certain elemental demons about to attack. Fire burst from the old man's mouth, sending the hanyou flying across the cell, but only singeing his skin and clothing. He landed in a crumpled heap, hearing a triumphant cackle as the youkai scrambled back to the hole.

"Wait," he gasped desperately, cracking open one eye just in time to see the old man hefting up the heavy flagstone to seal off the passageway behind him. "Please, don't go. I've been in the darkness for so long. Please..."

He fully expected to be plunged back into his eternal night, fully expected the demon to make a clean getaway and disappear forever. Instead, though, the old man stood frozen in that same position, flagstone hoisted above his head, staring at the fallen hanyou with a strange expression in his eyes. They gazed at one another for a long moment, the dim light of the tunnel more than enough to illuminate both faces.

"All right, then," the old man shrugged carelessly, tossing the flat stone aside. He hopped down into the passageway and reappeared the next moment with a small lantern. As its golden light blossomed into the room, Inuyasha could have sworn he had never seen a more beautiful sight. The hanyou gingerly sat up, waiting for the intruder to speak.

"Name's Totosai," his cackly voice announced as he promptly sat cross-legged on the floor. The light of the lantern illuminated his gaunt face, casting his many wrinkles into grotesque relief. "I was thrown in here for treason to the government. How about you, youngster?"

"Inuyasha," he grunted. "Same."

"Ah," Totosai intoned wisely, his large eyes moving knowingly to the dog ears atop his newfound companion's head. "So you had the misfortune of getting on Sesshomaru's bad side as well?"

"Sesshomaru?" Inuyasha snorted derisively. "Exactly how long have you been in this place, old man?"

"Oh, I sometimes wonder that myself," the demon shrugged. His eyes glazed over. "It seems so long ago, those days spent out on the beautiful lava plains, just me and Momo, the sweltering steam in our faces and the rumble of shifting rock beneath our feet... Ah, those were the days, indeed..." Totosai seemed to drift off into his own pleasant memories, a feeble smile tilting his sunken mouth. The sight was rather revolting.

"So what exactly did you do to make Sesshomaru so angry with you?" Inuyasha inquired, trying to steer the old man back to the conversation at hand.

"Eh? Oh, I wouldn't give him the sword he wanted."

One of the hanyou's eyes twitched. "He threw you in here over a sword?"

"Well, not just any sword," the youkai corrected him with a knowing wink. "And what else would he throw me in here for? I was, after all, the Imperial Swordsmith." Upon seeing his companion's obvious surprise, he puffed out his chest indignantly. "Do you mean to tell me you've never heard of the great sword maker, Totosai?" he demanded, extremely affronted.

"Can't say as I have," Inuyasha drawled. "But then, from the sounds of it, you've spent most of my lifetime living in this stinking hole."

Totosai's shoulder's sagged, and he suddenly looked very dejected. "True, true," he agreed. "Sesshomaru tossed me in here within the first month of his reign, furious that I refused to comply with his wishes. I barely lasted longer than you and your mother."

The hanyou went rigid, wide amber eyes staring in shock at the old man sitting across from him. His voice came out in strangled tones. "How did you...?"

"Nice woman, that Lady Izayoi," the old man rambled on half-lucidly. "Inu no Taisho couldn't have picked a nicer one. And pretty too. You were a troublesome little runt, though. Probably still are," he added with a good-natured chuckle.

Memories flashed through Inuyasha's mind, fleeting images from his early childhood. He could hardly recall his father's face or what life in the Imperial court had been like, but his mother... He swallowed hard, firmly suppressing the flood of emotions that threatened to boil to the surface. "Tell me about the sword," he quickly changed the subject. "Why'd Sesshomaru get into such a snit over a weapon?"

Totosai's mouth curled up, and for a moment a shrewd gleam entered his eyes as he looked askance at the hanyou. "Two great swords I crafted during the reign of Inu no Taisho, the two greatest swords in all of Japan. The emperor himself said he'd never seen such fine workmanship. After he died, one of the swords was given to Sesshomaru as part of his inheritance. But he really wanted the other one."

"So why didn't you just trade him?" came the confused query. A simple sword seemed like a trivial thing to go to prison for.

The old fire demon's mouth screwed up indignantly. "Because _Tenseiga_ was crafted specifically for Sesshomaru. It is a mighty sword, and his father always meant for it to be passed to him. The other... well, the other was never meant to come into Sesshomaru's hands. It was crafted for someone else, but now I don't think it will ever reach its rightful owner."

"So you refused to give him the sword, and he sent you to prison and took it anyway," Inuyasha pronounced with slight condemnation, then added sarcastically, "Way to stick up for your principles, old man. You sure showed him."

Totosai blinked owlishly, as though processing what he had just said. "Oh! Sesshomaru doesn't have the Tetsusaiga," he declared, mouth widening in a toothless grin. "It's hidden away, safe and sound, and he'll never find it." He started to cackle, but his mirth quickly faded into a morose sigh. "He came here to visit every week for the first few months, demanding that I tell its location, and every week I sent him away empty-handed. Eventually, he must have given up. I haven't seen him in years, probably never will again."

"You can say that again," Inuyasha snorted. He hugged his arms to himself, more out of habit than anything else. The presence of that simple lantern brought such incredible warmth to the room, almost as though it were the sun itself.

The old man's scraggly brows furrowed together. "Eh? What's that supposed to mean?" he inquired in confusion.

"Sesshomaru was overthrown within the first year of his reign," the hanyou informed him pointedly. "An army of humans—monks, most of them—rose up against him and defeated him while he was still new to the throne. They had gathered support from some of the demons of the land and worked the lower classes into a frenzy, from what I was told. Anyway," he waved an airy hand, "they cast Sesshomaru into exile and established a republic, not that it's any better than the old empire."

The elder blinked, staring at Inuyasha as though expecting him to add a "just kidding" onto his little narrative. Eventually, when it didn't come and when the hanyou didn't continue, his lips curved up in a feeble smile, and a wheezy laugh escaped his mouth. The breathy sound escalated to a loud, almost maniacal guffaw as Totosai shook with the force of his own laughter. Inuyasha couldn't remember ever having heard anyone laugh so long and so hard, and he stared in fascination, listening to the old man's mirth.

Suddenly, the laughter died off and a somber expression abruptly appeared on Totosai's face. "That's terrible," said the old fire youkai gravely, and he sounded as though he meant it.

_Right_, thought Inuyasha, _the old man's a nutcase. _Considering that he had been imprisoned for probably close to seventeen years, it wasn't too much of a stretch. After all, four had been nearly enough to do Inuyasha himself in.

"Terrible, terrible," Totosai was murmuring under his breath, shaking his head sadly. "Poor Inu no Taisho, to have his legacy destroyed so easily. The old dog didn't deserve that, not in the least." He paused, glancing shrewdly up at the silent hanyou. "You were thrown in here for treason, you say?" he inquired hopefully. "Trying to restore your father's glory, eh? Being the dutiful son, eh?"

"Hardly," Inuyasha scoffed. "I couldn't care less that the old empire was overthrown."

Totosai scowled, unfolding one hand and swatting it across the hanyou's head. "Show some respect for your ancestors," he scolded.

"Hey! They're the ones that disowned me, not the other way around!" Inuyasha reminded him indignantly, ducking away from another swat. "They're the ones who couldn't stomach having a half-breed in the family!"

"Nah," the old man contradicted, casually waving his offending hand as though shooing away a pesky fly. "Your old dad didn't care that you were a hanyou. He loved your mother, and he loved her child. Sesshomaru, now, _he_ cared, but... wait, so how did you end up in here anyway?"

The change in conversation was so sudden that it took a moment for Inuyasha to register the question. "Me? Treason, I told you. I'm an enemy to the Republic."

"Sure, but what did you do to get that way, if not try to restore the dynasty?"

He hesitated for a long moment, contemplating on whether to tell his tale or not. It wasn't like him to share any deep confidences with others, and especially not with a daft old youkai he had only just met. And yet, Totosai had already shared his own trials, and had done so freely. In the end, Inuyasha decided that it was only fair that he reciprocate the gesture. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth and spoke, haltingly at first, telling of his life as a sailor, of his captain's death and a promise made. The words soon tumbled out almost faster than he could think them, as though the moment he began talking he couldn't stop again. He'd had more than four years to mull over everything, the events playing over and over in his mind. And now, even as the flood of words escaped his mouth, he felt his own bitterness well up inside, bitterness at a life stolen from his very grasp by a simple deathbed oath.

"How did the government discover your journey?" Totosai inquired after the story finished, one finger scratching his head.

"No doubt Hiten told them. Or maybe even one of the other crewmen, though they didn't seem the type. Hiten and I never got along, the damn cocky bastard, so I wouldn't put it past him."

The old man grunted. "So you're in here for delivering a letter?" he finally pronounced, eyeing his fellow prisoner with something like disdain. "And you thought _my_ reason was pathetic!"

Inuyasha growled, leaning forward with narrowed eyes. "Listen here, you old fart..."

"Now, now," Totosai interrupted, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "No need to apologize..."

"Who's apologizing?"

The ancient fire demon abruptly froze, his entire body going rigid. Inuyasha tensed apprehensively, watching as Totosai blinked, then slowly looked around himself. "Where am I?" the demon asked in a tiny voice.

_Unbelievable_, the hanyou thought, inwardly cursing. "You're in my cell. You burrowed in here, remember? Come on, now. Stay with the conversation, old man!"

Totosai stared vacantly back at him, and for a long moment, both were silent. "Ah!" he cried at last, hitting fist against palm triumphantly. "You're Inu no Taisho's runt! Well, well, well. Come along, then." Without another word of explanation, he vaulted feet first into his hole, taking the small lantern with him.

"Hey!" Inuyasha cried, scrambling after him. He dropped into the earthen tunnel, hunching down so that he could crawl on hands and knees after the surprisingly agile old man. Totosai's wasted form was silhouetted up ahead, the lantern's flame hidden from view by his body, but its rosy glow calling back to the light-starved hanyou. "Hey! Where are we going?" he called.

"Shh!" came the irritated response as Totosai skirted around a corner like a nimble child.

Muttering curses under his breath, he followed as fast as he could, his knees scraping against the gravelly floor. The tunnel twisted and turned several times, weaving beneath the foundation of the prison. Through the packed dirt and stone floor above him, Inuyasha could hear the faint scuffling of other prisoners, mingled with the occasional muffled shrieking. Then, the dim light ahead of him disappeared all together.

"Hey!" he cried out, suddenly panicked that he would get trapped in the close, dark passageway. He ran headlong into a wall, realizing a fraction too late that the tunnel had turned again. Whirling for any signs of the old man and his lantern, he felt an incredible sense of relief wash over him as he spotted a dim glow up ahead, coming from above. It was the other end of the tunnel, Totosai's cell, no doubt. Inuyasha darted forward and practically leapt through the opening.

"Slow one, aren't you?" Totosai mused as the hanyou tried to fully suppress the terror that had gripped him down in the thick darkness below. The old man leaned casually against the wall of his cell, wide eyes watching his guest. Inuyasha shot him a dirty look, which immediately melted into one of complete shock.

He felt his jaw go slack, but he couldn't bring himself to close his mouth, couldn't move at all. For a moment, he was certain he had finally gone crazy, and this was all part of the delusion. Then, he snapped out of it.

"Wha... what kind of cell _is_ this?" he demanded, amber eyes darting around in amazement. The tunnel's entrance was in one corner, and the room was easily four times the size of Inuyasha's. A futon and a couple of blankets were laid out in the opposite corner next to a low table littered with books and tools. The wall directly across from the door was hung with half-crafted swords, and a large anvil sat a couple paces toward the center of the cell, hammer and tongs leaning against it.

"I _told_ you I was the Imperial Swordsmith," Totosai answered, as though this explained everything.

"They let you make swords in here?"

The youkai huffed. "_Let_ me? Force me, is more like it! Demon blacksmiths aren't exactly common, you know. Every so often, that idiot caretaker comes down here with an order for weapons: swords, spears, whatever. If I make them, I get benefits," he gestured toward the futon and table, "and if I refuse, I get beaten. Not the greatest arrangement in the world."

"Why don't you just kill him? You've got swords here! Use one!"

"Use one of those?" Totosai scoffed, gesturing toward the array of weapons lining the wall. "That would be demeaning! They're junk! I don't actually put any work into them, no magic, no real craftsmanship. And that idiot Gatenmaru can't tell the difference," he added with a satisfied smirk, chuckling to himself.

"Who cares if they're not your best work?" Inuyasha cried in disbelief. "Kill the caretaker and hack your way out of this hellhole! Why are you digging through the dirt when you could just go through the door?"

"Futile," Totosai said, waving one clawed hand dismissively. "I'd be struck down before I had the chance. This place is guarded by monks and demons alike, all of whom are rather bloodthirsty, or haven't you noticed? I wouldn't make it ten feet before they killed me. So I make the best of my situation and plot my escape through other means."

The hanyou was shaking his head, eyes wide and staring. "You're crazy," he pronounced.

"That's probably true," the ancient youkai allowed with a shrug. "Now, are you going to help me or not?"

"Help you what? Run a sword through Gatenmaru?" He yelped as the old man's fist came down on his head. "What the hell was that for?"

"Are you going to help me dig my tunnel?" Totosai clarified.

Inuyasha eyed him contemptuously. "You want me to dig through the dirt?"

"Dogs like digging."

It was his turn to knock Totosai on the head. "I am _not_ a dog," he corrected the old man, who cradled his abused pate pathetically.

"But you do want to get out of here," the youkai pointed out in a feeble voice.

"So maybe I'll swipe one of your swords and bust my way out of here by force," Inuyasha retorted.

Totosai scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You probably don't know the first thing about handling a sword—you wouldn't get three steps down the corridor. Stick to the digging. It's our best bet. Just trust me," he added, seeing the mutinous gleam in Inuyasha's eyes.

"I can think of plenty of better things to be doing than digging a tunnel," the hanyou stated grumpily.

"Like what? Sitting around in the dark and letting your memories eat you alive?"

Okay, so he had a point. Inuyasha, unwilling as always to concede, merely snorted. "Keh."

"Great!" Totosai pronounced with vigor. "Now we'll be able to cover twice the ground! We'll be out of here in no time!"

"Wait a second, Totosai," Inuyasha interrupted the old man's dance of glee. "Exactly how long have you been working on that tunnel that goes to my cell?"

The fire youkai blinked and hesitated, then shrugged an ambiguous answer.

"Months? Years? What?" the hanyou prompted expectantly.

"Well, I..." The old man really seemed loath to respond. "I... started it the day after they brought my anvil and tools to me. Had to have something to pry up that first flagstone, you know."

"And that was how long after you got put in here? A few years?"

Totosai shuffled his feet and averted his eyes. "A few days," he mumbled, just loud enough for the hanyou's ears to pick up.

"Great," Inuyasha pronounced, throwing his hands in the air in disgust. "We're never going to get out of here!"

"Not with that attitude, we're not," Totosai shot back petulantly.

Inuyasha snorted, and the two of them glared at one another. "You're a real pain in the ass, old man," the hanyou declared, clenching his jaws. "So," he added the next moment, voice thick with resignation, "where do you want me to start?" Totosai's mouth fell open, revealing shrunken gums and a couple of weak little fangs, the only teeth he still had. Inuyasha rolled his eyes at his fellow prisoner's stupor.

"It's like you said, I got nothing better to do."

Slowly, the sunken, wrinkled old mouth curved up into a smile.

* * *

**A/N: As always, thanks so much to all of my reviewers! I love reading your comments! And a gold star to everyone who correctly guessed the identity of the intruder from the end of last chapter. It was fairly obvious, I know. The Abbé Faria counterpart was a no-brainer for me when I was planning this out, although I did briefly consider throwing Kaede into the role just for laughs… Anyway, I guess this is what you'd call a filler chapter. It was essential to the plot, but not a whole lot happened. It didn't even have a scene change. Sorry.**

**The good news is that Chapter Five is basically already written. The bad news is that I have two slightly different versions which I still have to reconcile with one another, after which I have to do my final proofread and adjust the formatting of the entire text so that it'll upload nicely. The process will probably take me about an hour, but seeing as how I just finished going through all that with _this_ chapter… expect another update next week. No comment on my twisted writing process.**

**And just because one good pimping deserves another, if any of you out there haven't read Lavender Valentine's stories, I highly recommend them (especially _Taisho's Darlings_, my favorite of the lot). If you review, tell Black Lavender that Kate says "hi." I'd tell her myself, but I'm a little afraid…**

**Happy Readings!**


	5. A Change of Scenery

**A/N: Hey, all! Remember back in the first chapter, where I said I was using _Monte Cristo_ as a springboard, and that the plot would, with any luck, diverge in the future? No? Well, I did. I bring this up because the following chapter has no connection to the _Monte Cristo_ influence (at least, I don't think it does - if someone out there recognizes one, feel free to point it out). It is also, without a doubt, my favorite chapter so far, which probably means you'll all hate it, haha. A few of you might be happy to see the introduction of some well-known characters… unless I've butchered them in my reproduction, in which case you'll probably be pissed off… Anyway, I'll stop yammering now and get on with it.**

**Disclaimer: _InuYasha_ is the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi, and _The Count of Monte Cristo_ is a product of the brilliant mind of Alexandre Dumas. I own rights to neither and am writing this story for my own twisted amusement, not for profit.**

* * *

_Rising Sun_

Chapter 5 - A Change of Scenery

* * *

A purple-and-black clad monk trudged along the white shore of the beach, kicking the occasional seashell or twisted piece of driftwood. The early morning sky was surprisingly blue considering the torrential amount of rain that had fallen the previous night, but it did nothing to improve the young man's mood. He hated this beach, he hated this island, and he hated the fact that he would probably be stuck here for the rest of his life. What he wouldn't give to see a pretty face right about now... or better yet, something a bit lower... 

"Brother Miroku!"

He snapped out of his dejected reverie, jerking his gaze up to find one of his fellow monks approaching him. With an inward sigh, he noted the stern visage of the man but plastered an accommodating smile on his own face all the same. "Yes, Brother Seikai?" he answered cheerily.

Seikai eyed his dark hair suspiciously, as always. All the other monks kept their heads shaved as a sign of their devotion to Buddha, but Miroku insisted that razors were too harsh on his sensitive scalp. Instead, he wore his shoulder-length hair pulled back in a small ponytail at the nape of his neck, a constant source of ire to his religious brethren. He couldn't help if they were jealous.

"You are to patrol the northern shore this morning," Seikai said gruffly, his beady gaze remaining fixed on the offending coif. "Come along." He turned to lead the way, Miroku falling in a casual gait right beside him.

"Has something become of Brother Musou? Isn't he normally the one to patrol the northern shores during daytime hours?"

Seikai grunted. "He's come down with a fever this morning."

That was yet another thing to hate about this island—the many disease-carrying mosquitoes. Of course, he himself had yet to come down with any such illness, but the others seemed to take turns. One of them was always sick, and Miroku was left picking up the slack.

"That is indeed terrible news," he said with false sympathy. "May Buddha grant him swift recovery." He reverently drew one hand down in front of his chest, the picture of model piety.

Seikai grunted again, apparently unimpressed with his show. "Last night's storm left behind some trouble," he stated, skirting through the thicker foliage that lined the beaches.

"What sort of trouble?"

"You'll see soon enough."

They took a shortcut across a line of lush trees and emerged on the north shore. Miroku's eyes were immediately drawn seaward, to a large, black shape hunched down in the water just beyond the bay.

"I-is that a ship?" he queried, squinting at the far-off object even as a surge of hope tore through him. Perhaps he could hitch a ride, get himself far away from this kami-forsaken pile of rocks...

"It dashed against the coral reef last night," Seikai confirmed with a nod, dashing his companion's unspoken hope as well. "Looks like it was a slaver ship."

"Were there any survivors?" Miroku demanded sharply. Slavers or not, the lives of the ship's occupants were still of value.

A gruff bark of a laugh escaped the older monk's cruelly twisted mouth. "If there were, the sharks have long since dispatched with them."

"You mean you haven't sent anyone out there to check?" The question left his tongue more like an accusation.

"You know the rules," Seikai shot back. "No outsider gets on Nishi-no-shima alive. Even if there _were_ survivors, we would have to get rid of them ourselves. Anyway, the ship is slowly sinking; it should be fully submerged by this time tomorrow. If anything curious washes ashore, though, you are to bring it directly to me, is that understood?"

Miroku bobbed his head, and the elder monk, apparently satisfied by this agreement, turned on his heel and left, falling back in the trees, back toward the cluster of small huts that served as home for the spiritual guards of Nishi-no-shima. No sooner had he gone than the benign expression on Miroku's face melted away into one of pronounced disgust.

"Jackass," he muttered under his breath, making a rude gesture in the direction of the retreating monk.

Neatly flipping his staff once in his hand, he set about the task of patrolling the northern shore. The wide stretch of land curved around a small bay, and it took nearly an hour to walk from one end to another. That was basically what he would spend the rest of the day doing—walking up and down the beach, making sure no one from the outside world trespassed on the forbidden island.

He despised this isolation. Supply ships dropped their cargo on the southern beaches, along with any new holy men assigned to guard duty. Other than that, no one ever set foot here. In fact, the last outsider to successfully make it on and then off the island had been a hanyou some ten years ago, and Miroku's own father had been the one to allow him passage through the outer barrier.

Miroku's gaze fell to the glove on his right hand and the string of prayer beads wrapped snugly around it. His father had been punished for his actions a decade ago, and that punishment had passed on to him. He clenched the hand into a fist, mentally willing himself to suppress the sudden rage that boiled within him. What sort of regime would repay a harmless mistake with such an evil curse, he had to wonder. They claimed the former emperor, the former imperial dynasty as a whole, really, was a menace to the good of mankind.

So what exactly made them different?

Pieces of the shipwreck began washing ashore soon enough: splinters of wood, the occasional pack, nothing Miroku deemed, in Seikai's own words, "curious" enough to report. He pocketed a small leather pouch containing a set of dice, wrinkled his nose at some obviously spoiled food, and all in all decided that the shipwreck wasn't such a bad thing, considering it gave him something more than sand to look at.

Of course, that attitude vanished when something unexpected washed ashore, down at the far end of the beach.

From a distance, it looked like nothing more than a bundle of seaweed clustered about a heap of sun-bleached driftwood, the incoming waves lapping gently over it. As his footsteps neared, he realized it was something far more significant. In surprise, he dropped his staff and rushed forward, falling to his knees and quickly turning the object over.

The small child was undeniably dead.

Miroku felt as though his very heart had been torn from him as he gazed at the tiny, battered little body in his arms. Her soaking hair splayed out around her, a few tendrils plastered to her pale, waxen face, highlighting the bruises along her cheek and jaw. The wasted arms and legs were similarly marked, and Miroku knew at a glance that the injuries were not a result of the storm or the sea. The range of colors in the motley blemishes showed them to be in varying stages of healing. In life, this tiny girl had been sorely abused, which made perfect sense, really. After all, her ragged, tattered clothing marked her as a slave, and slaves were rarely treated with kindness.

He felt a sense of injustice ripple over him like the waves lapping at his feet. The innocents of the world should never be made to suffer, of that one conviction he was sure. Death was probably a release for this little girl, but she deserved more of a life than she had been given.

Still, there wasn't much that he could do to alter the situation. He had no power to bring her back to life, and her abusers were certainly dead by now as well. If Seikai were to see her, he would probably order her body thrown back into the sea, saying it was none of their concern. And yet, Miroku felt very much that it _was_ his concern. Staring down into that face of frozen innocence, a memory began to stir in the errant monk's mind, a whisper of rumors passed between the holy men stationed on the island.

He abruptly cast his eyes across the expanse of beach and foliage behind him, momentarily paranoid that someone might be watching him. When he was certain he could sense no one else in the vicinity, he stripped his purple over-robe off, bundling the child up within it to cover her from sight. Then, he gathered the limp body into his arms and quickly trotted toward the nearest line of vegetation.

_She didn't make it to the island alive, so there's no harm in carrying her further inland,_ he reasoned to himself. _And if she's not alive, she can't feel curiosity. Seikai said he only wanted curious things brought to him._ Feeling satisfied that he wasn't _technically_ breaking any commands, he took one last, surreptitious glance around himself before firmly stepping through the outer barrier.

His movement through the trees and underbrush was marked with extreme caution. The further inland he trekked, the more likely he was to run into one of his fellow monks, and then he would be subjected to a myriad of questions he didn't feel like answering. While he was certain he could talk his way out of any reprimands and that he hadn't broken any specific rules yet, he still wanted nothing more than to cross the line of the inner barrier, where he would theoretically be safe once more.

Only once was he forced to duck amid the lush undergrowth. He waited, barely even breathing, for another monk to pass by him; he thanked his lucky stars that the man seemed to be wholly unaware of his surroundings. The inner barrier lay not twenty feet away, marked by a series of wooden stakes strung with be-ribboned twine. He would have to cross open ground, hop the twine, and disappear into the house beyond before the patrolling monk rounded back this way, if his plan were to succeed.

Clutching his lifeless bundle to him, he bounded up the moment the coast was clear. He scurried across the deforested area and easily stepped through the inner barrier, feeling not so much as a tickle of power as he did so. It was, after all, meant to react only to youkai, as opposed to the outer barrier, which repelled all things living.

The house at the center of the island was far finer than the crude huts the monks lived in, though it was still rudimentary in design itself. Miroku had enough presence of mind to cast his sandals from his feet at the door, hoping none of his brethren would espy them, before unceremoniously barging into the residence. As he leaned against the shut door behind him, feeling the cool darkness of the entryway, he breathed much easier, allowing himself to relax. Of course, he probably should have been even more on edge, considering where he was...

"Insolent human!" a shrill voice squawked loudly, nearly causing Miroku to drop his burden in surprise. Apparently he wasn't as relaxed as he thought. "What do you think you are doing trespassing on this domain?"

He looked around momentarily, his gaze finally taking a downward turn, where he discovered a small, toad-like demon glaring up at him with bulging yellow eyes. Ah, yes, the emperor's attendant.

"Where's your master?" he inquired simply, not wasting any words on explaining himself to this lesser being.

"The emperor is in his library," the toad huffed, crossing his arms around a plain wooden staff he insisted on carrying. "But you are not to intrude! Your filthy lot isn't supposed to be here with the new supplies until next week! Wait! Insolent human!"

Miroku had long since skirted past the irritating creature, trekking down the hallway and desperately trying to remember which room served as the emperor's library. He had only ever been inside this house once before, and that had been almost three months ago. Making a supply delivery was a far different experience than the errand he currently sought to complete.

After checking half a dozen rooms and squashing the indignant toad demon beneath impatient feet more than once, he finally came to the library. With a courage he never knew himself to possess, he slid aside the shoji and strode purposefully into the room. Keen amber eyes watched him closely as he laid his bundle on a low table then stepped back, bowing submissively. The toad gawked from the doorway.

"My lord," Miroku intoned solemnly, keeping his eyes downcast.

He heard a book snap shut, and he decided to venture a glance upward, his own indigo eyes meeting that fiery stare not ten feet away. He suddenly felt quite vulnerable, standing there alone and facing one of the most powerful demons on the earth. Instinctively, his mind thought of the ofuda concealed on his person, calculating how fast it would take him to whip one out to defend himself. He shook the thought away.

"My lord," he repeated, never breaking that eye contact.

"Why do you bring me a dead animal?" the former emperor inquired, his tones bored and aloof as his eyes briefly flicked to the bundle on the table.

"It is not an animal, my lord," Miroku clarified, stepping forward to remove the purple cloth. He drew back the makeshift covering, exposing the pallid body of the small child.

"A human corpse!" the toad at the door screeched in disgust. "How dare you bring such a vile thing into Lord Sesshomaru's presence! Do you seek to defile him? Insolent wretch! You dare have the nerve—"

"Jaken."

Any further vituperation on the attendant's tongue broke off in a strangled squeak.

"Leave us."

"B-but, my lord..." The toad floundered for a moment, earning himself a scathing glare. He scuttled away down the hall without further protest.

Sesshomaru turned his golden-eyed attention back on the young intruder, who was currently absorbed in replacing his over-robe on himself. "Explain," the inuyoukai commanded curtly.

Miroku's gaze jerked up from the knot he had just finished tying, his words tumbling from his mouth faster than he could think. "There was a shipwreck last night, during the storm. Her body washed ashore, and I found her." It wasn't much of an explanation, he knew, but nothing more came to his normally glib mind.

"So why bring her to me?"

"Because..." How exactly did one go about addressing something like this? "Because I've heard tales of that sword you've been permitted to keep," he finally stated hesitantly.

Amber eyes shifted momentarily to the weapon in question, a dark-hilted katana at his side. "What tales?"

"I... I have heard that it is a blade which cannot kill the living, which destroys only death."

The stoic dog demon arched one eyebrow and allowed an almost inaudible grunt to escape his lips. "You monks have nothing better to do than to talk of Tenseiga?"

"Well, you have to admit it is a little odd that a prisoner in exile would be allowed to carry a weapon," Miroku replied casually, then added with a wistful note, "Are the stories true?"

"The sword cannot cut," was the only response he received. For a long moment, he stood staring at the fallen emperor, wondering what he was supposed to do next. He didn't even know for sure if Sesshomaru could actually revive the little girl, let alone how to go about convincing him to do it.

"She didn't deserve such an untimely end," he finally stated.

"Many of us don't deserve the punishments Fate chooses to give us," the former emperor answered levelly, and Miroku could not miss the implications of this pronouncement.

"If you have any mercy in your heart..."

"I don't." The note of finality in his voice indicated he would suffer no contradiction of the matter.

Miroku met his molten gaze, suppressing the mixed fear and rage that welled up within him. "I do not believe anyone should have to bear an unjust punishment," he said carefully. "Consider this child a chance at redemption."

"This Sesshomaru does not require redemption."

Some inner sense warned him not to push his luck with the demon. Irritation bubbled to the surface of his carefully controlled demeanor, and with a short sigh of resignation, he said plainly, "Then consider her a gift and do with her what you will." He bowed stiffly and exited, feeling the amber gaze fixed on his back as he went. A small part of him felt a surge of disappointment, but he mentally squelched it, picking up his pace to leave the prisoner's manor.

Kicking the toad demon once more for good measure, he stepped outside, snatching up his sandals and bolting across the open ground, back to the relative safety of the undergrowth before anyone could catch sight of him. Their security here was too lax, he thought snidely, making it fairly simple for any of the island's inhabitants to turn traitor.

Of course, that was just another observation he would keep to himself.

**………**

His golden eyes stared at the small child, the surrounding shelves of books long forgotten. The pall of death hung upon the room in suffocating thickness, but that did not concern him as much as the sword at his belt.

Tenseiga had started pulsing the moment that monk had so abruptly entered the room, its long-dormant rhythm soft at first but gradually escalating into a deafening roar. It sensed its enemy nearby and commanded him to attack.

Sesshomaru never had been one to follow orders.

He knelt before the table now, his attention fixated on the still form in front of him. She had been dead several hours, but the salty scent of the ocean clung to her much more heavily than any decay. He would have to get Jaken to bury her before his useless sword drove him mad with its unceasing call. He felt no inclination to obey, to extend a hand of mercy. He was Sesshomaru, former emperor of all of Japan, and he had the power to bestow life where he so desired. This child, however—this _human_ child—had no claims to his mercy or protection.

At least, that was what he kept telling himself.

"My lord! That wretched monk has left the premises!"

Jaken's voice grated on his sensitive ears like the death throes of a throttled alley cat. "Yes," he acknowledged curtly, not bothering to spare so much as a glance toward his attendant.

"My lord?" The toad demon's footsteps approached him tentatively. "What became of the... Wah! That insolent human left his garbage here! Who is he to think that the mighty Lord Sesshomaru would stoop to revive a worthless child such as this? I shall dispose of this insult immediately, my lord!"

Sesshomaru held up one hand, and his faithful servant froze, gaping up at him. The inuyoukai quite suddenly felt an undue amount of irritation, more so than when the intruding monk had deposited this corpse on his private table. It was one thing if he decided not to revive this child, but it was quite another to have Jaken dictate his actions to him as though foreseeing his decision.

That was not to be countenanced.

Fluidly rising to his feet, he drew the pulsing Tenseiga from his belt, watching as the creatures from the netherworld slid into focus before him. The spindly, bug-eyed monsters stared up at him, their long, bony fingers clutching the little girl possessively. He hated the look of them, the way they glared with contempt and smugness, so sure that their prey could not be taken from them. The ghostly scavengers grunted and chirped, jealously guarding their quarry like rabid dogs would guard a fresh joint of meat from an encroacher. He could feel their spiteful eyes boring into him, could sense the enmity rolling off them in waves.

It had been such a long time since Sesshomaru had had the satisfaction of killing anything.

"M-my lord?" Jaken stuttered, staring at him in shock and apprehension.

The dog demon swung his katana with an expert swipe, feeling it drive through the phantoms before him. Tenseiga pulsed with triumph as the otherworldly monsters disintegrated under its very touch, relinquishing their handholds on the small child. The sword returned to its sheath in blissful silence, and Sesshomaru himself knelt once more, gathering the child in his arms to check for signs of life. He hardly knew what to expect, having never bothered himself with actually bestowing life on any creature prior to this one.

A faint heartbeat gradually grew stronger, and the tiny chest lifted and fell with the first of many breaths. More interesting by far, the bruises and abrasions that had formerly marked the girl's skin disappeared as color slowly found its way back into her pallor. That which was once dead now lived again, Sesshomaru noted with a faint and quickly suppressed satisfaction.

A pair of deep brown eyes cracked open, peering up at his exotic features, lingering on the crescent moon that marked his forehead, as well as the double stripes gracing each cheek. Sesshomaru expected nothing less than an ear-piercing shriek followed by hours of terrified wailing. He found himself unduly surprised when, instead, the little girl merely sighed in contentment, fisting one tiny hand in his haori and snuggling closer to his warmth.

For perhaps the first time in his life, he felt at a complete loss.

"Jaken," he said, maintaining his rigid façade of total control despite his sudden inner turmoil, "inform the monks upon their next visit that we shall require an extra ration of supplies from now on."

The toad gawked, his mouth flapping open and shut and his eyes bulging even more, were it possible. He continued to gawk, even when his master stood and strode out of the room, taking the household's newest occupant with him.

* * *

**A/N: I hadn't originally planned on visiting Sesshomaru's place of exile when I first started contemplating this fic, but I realized that I really have no desire to read a lengthy piece of _InuYasha_ fanfiction that's devoid of Sesshomaru, let alone write one. So a secondary plot emerges.**


	6. Freedom Calling

Disclaimer: _InuYasha_ is the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi, and _The Count of Monte Cristo_ is a product of the brilliant mind of Alexandre Dumas. I own rights to neither and am writing this story for my own twisted amusement, not for profit.

* * *

Rising Sun

Chapter 6 — Freedom Calling

* * *

The sharp leather tongue of the whip snapped across his back, and he bit his lower lip to keep from crying out, thankful that his fangs disappeared on this one night. The new moon had come once again, and with it came Gatenmaru, just like he had every month for the last ten years.

Inuyasha didn't know how many times he had begged Totosai to let him have a sword, but the old man was relentless in his refusal. At the moment, the hanyou-turned-human would have given anything for something sharp to shove between the moth demon's ribs—or something dull, for that matter. Totosai, though, insisted that he would be killed before he got anywhere near the prison caretaker; with his weaker human form, he would be easy fodder for the spiritual guards who always accompanied Gatenmaru.

Deep down, he knew the old man was right. In his hanyou form he could have torn the lot of them apart before they so much as blinked. As a human, though, his movements seemed so much more sluggish.

So instead of attacking, he endured, just as he always had.

The whip continued to lick across his back like a solitary finger of fire, but he allowed his mind to wander, having much more to think about now than depressing memories or searing pain. The tunnel was coming along well, despite the occasional cave-in, but Inuyasha had long ago lost any faith in Totosai's sense of direction. It had been somewhere around six years since he had agreed to help the old man's escape endeavor, and in that time, they had surfaced in no less than thirty separate cells, much to the surprise of the half-insane demons occupying them.

After an early-on encounter with a particularly brutish oni, Totosai had insisted on taking some time out of every day to instruct Inuyasha on how to use a sword. The hanyou would practice his exercises in the blacksmith's spacious cell while Totosai himself would work on crafting his requested weapons. Then, they would both head down to the tunnel, digging away at the dirt and rock like a couple of badgers.

One of the "benefits" Totosai received for his workmanship was that his meager food ration was delivered every day at the same time, passed through the small flap in his cell door. Inuyasha's came in a desultory fashion rather than any set pattern, which had greatly contributed to his former habit of losing track of the days and weeks as they passed him by. That condition of his imprisonment, along with his solitude, had disappeared the day Totosai intruded on his prison cell. As a result, he could foretell the night of the new moon and mentally prepare himself. Gatenmaru had grown increasingly frustrated over the years, to say the least.

The moth demon finished with the whip, but when he discovered only a vague smirk on the hanyou's face, he commenced kicking and beating, taking sadistic pleasure in every grimace from his prone victim. He didn't stop until one of the guards reminded him of the impending dawn. Snorting with disgust, he stepped back, smoothing his hair.

"I'll see you next month then, _hanyou_," he spat, exiting the cell. Inuyasha, curled in a bruised, bleeding ball on the cool stone floor, made no answer.

The moment the locks clicked into place, the flagstone at the center of the room raised to reveal a very somber Totosai. "You know," the ancient youkai started tentatively, setting his lantern off to the side as he hoisted himself through the hole in the floor, "if you'd just pretend to scream in agony, he wouldn't be so brutal."

Inuyasha coughed, blood flecks spattering on the floor in front of him. "Not gonna give him the satisfaction," he croaked. "Someday," he added, his body racked with another fit of coughing, "I'll rip his intestines out through his throat and throttle him with them."

Totosai couldn't stop the faint smile that touched his lips. "Well," he concluded, sitting back to wait for the dawn, "you can't be too hurt if you're spouting such threats." He had long ago learned not to coddle the hanyou or to attempt helping him with his injuries. Inuyasha himself pointed out that any makeshift bandages would be a waste, seeing as how the external wounds always healed as soon as the sun arose in the outside world. Besides, his pride wouldn't allow anyone to assist him.

"Keh," Inuyasha scoffed, shifting onto one side and curling his arms around his bare torso, "I'm fine. We're going to get out of here soon," he added in an odd tone of voice. "I can feel it in my bones, as if freedom itself is calling."

The ancient fire demon stared at the tiny, flickering flame of the lantern, his expression unreadable. "I only hope you're right," he mused.

………

"Here, little girl! Come get the pretty flower!"

Miroku watched from the shelter of the trees, an expression of ill-suppressed amusement on his face, as a group of three monks tried to coax the child to cross the line of the inner barrier. Three days had passed since he had smuggled her lifeless body to the former emperor, but today was the first time she had appeared outside the house, dressed in garb that looked suspiciously as though it had been confiscated from Jaken's wardrobe. Needless to say, the entire island was in an uproar over her arrival. This particular batch of brethren had been trying to lure her out all morning, with absolutely no success.

"Lord Sesshomaru told Rin not to go near the ribbons," the little girl answered uncertainly, wistful brown eyes fixed on the bright orange bloom that one of the monks was offering her.

"But you can take the pretty flower to Lord Sesshomaru. I'm sure he'd like it very much."

That seemed to catch her attention, hesitation and desire warring on her features. She took a tentative step forward, and Miroku tensed as he watched one of the monks prepare to snatch her the moment she came within range. Rin, though, seemed to think better of her decision, because she suddenly backed up again, shaking her head firmly.

"Lord Sesshomaru told Rin to stay on _this side_," she stated staunchly, enunciating the last two words with a stubborn firmness.

"One moment won't hurt," another monk wheedled. "And think of how happy he'll be to receive such a pretty present. Don't you think Lord Sesshomaru wants the flower?"

Her resolve wavered again, and Miroku inwardly prayed that her apparent loyalty to the dog demon would overcome such temptation. Her tiny brows knotted together in concentration while she considered the dilemma before her. A brief moment later, her expression suddenly cleared as though she had been struck with complete enlightenment.

"Rin will ask Lord Sesshomaru if she can cross the ribbons!" she announced proudly, turning that instant to trot back to the house.

The three monks called after her in horrified protest, but their cries fell on deaf ears. Miroku bit back the chuckle that bubbled up from his chest.

Rin never made it to the house, though. Halfway there, she froze as the imperial youkai himself materialized in front of her, face as stoic as ever.

"Lord Sesshomaru!" she cried in glee, lunging forward to snatch at his pristine white hakama. "The funny men want to give Rin a pretty flower!" His amber eyes followed her pointed finger to where the three monks huddled together staring at him in awe. "Can Rin get the pretty flower, Lord Sesshomaru?" the little girl was pleading.

He wordlessly stepped past her, his unreadable gaze fixed on the holy men as he approached them. They in turn backed away from the line of the barrier, apparently having forgotten that the dog demon could do them no harm so long as they remained outside its borders. Sesshomaru stopped just inside the boundary, with Rin coming to stand obliviously behind him.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, folding his arms as his molten stare shifted between the three. Their mouths opened and shut, but they made no intelligible sound among them, each man completely overcome by the domineering presence of the former emperor.

Sesshomaru evidently had plenty of patience, as he merely stood and waited for an answer.

"I'm sure my brothers were just trying to make friends with your new houseguest." Miroku stepped out from his hiding place in the trees, striding over to where his fellow monks cowered. He plucked the orange flower away from them. "No harm done," he added cheerfully as he openly leaned through the barrier and offered the blossom to Rin. She looked shyly between her master and this newcomer before snatching the flower and holding it to her chest possessively. Only when she was certain Miroku wasn't going to take the gift away from her again did she offer him a small smile.

"There," Miroku smiled back. "Now we're all friends."

Sesshomaru grunted, a gleam of amusement appearing in his eyes. "What do you say, Rin?" he inquired, his gaze stationed on the black-haired monk before him.

The little girl's grin stretched from ear to ear. "Thank you!" she cried enthusiastically.

The corners of the stoic dog demon's mouth twitched, and he immediately turned back to the house with a simple, "Come," thrown over his shoulder. The child, ever obedient, trotted after him faithfully, and they both disappeared inside.

The three monks let out a collective sigh of relief as Miroku turned on them with a sharply raised eyebrow. "You do realize he was watching you this entire time, don't you?" he inquired. "If you had made any move to snatch that girl from within the barrier, he likely would have torn off your hands before you could so much as blink."

"Brother Seikai instructed us to lure her out," one of them replied defensively.

"Ah. Well, good luck with that." He turned and strode away, back toward his assigned post for the day. Life on this island, it seemed, was about to get very interesting.

………

"Where on earth did she come from?" Seikai slammed one hand down on the rudimentary table at the head of the room and glared at all of the assembled monks, or rather, at one in particular.

"What are you looking at me for?" Miroku inquired innocently.

"You were on duty the morning after that storm," the elder monk sneered.

"And I assure you, no little girls came swimming up to the island on my watch," Miroku retorted, careful of his wording. "If she had, don't you think I would have summoned you? Or perhaps you believe I haven't learned from my father's mistakes."

The occupants of the small room shifted uncomfortably, a few glances straying to the glove on the young monk's right hand. Seikai himself swallowed and quickly changed the subject. "Well, wherever she came from, she must be dealt with. We must lure her beyond the barrier."

"She refuses to come anywhere near us," one monk piped up, "because Lord Sesshomaru has instructed her not to."

"She seems to be devoted to him," another added.

Seikai muttered a curse under his breath. "Crossing into the barrier to retrieve her isn't an option," he admitted. "Unless we were to snatch her the next time we make a supply delivery..."

"And face the wrath of a possessive dog demon," Miroku commented dryly. "You wouldn't make it to the barrier line before he struck you down."

"We could restrain him with spiritual wards while we retrieved her," one brother suggested hopefully. "It's been done before."

Miroku folded his arms and leaned back against the wall of the hut, eyes closed. "It took an army of monks to subdue him and cast him into exile," he pointed out. "We don't have enough spiritual strength in our meager numbers to restrain him long enough. We barely have enough among us to maintain the island's double barrier."

"Just whose side are you on?" Seikai demanded suspiciously, to which the dark-haired monk cracked open one eye.

"I'm on the side of logic," he answered in a steady voice. "If you forcibly try to take that little girl away from Lord Sesshomaru, you'll likely get yourselves killed in the process."

"We can't just leave her there!"

A silence descended on the room as everyone mulled over this predicament. Miroku alone wore an expression of calm indifference, much to the ire of his fellow brethren. He could sense their unrest, and inwardly he reveled in it. Had it been only a few days ago that he had thought life on this island was insufferably boring? And now it was just a couple of scantily-clad women shy of perfect...

"We'll starve her out," Seikai suddenly announced, and all eyes snapped to his face. "We'll withhold rations until Lord Sesshomaru willingly hands her over." A few monks murmured their approval, while others emphatically nodded at the pure genius of the plan.

Miroku decided not to voice everything that could go wrong. "Excellent idea," he stated blandly. "I'd love to see the look on Lord Sesshomaru's face when you tell him as much."

A mean glint entered Seikai's eyes, and one corner of his mouth twisted in a malicious half-grin. "I'm glad to hear that," he said, "because _you're_ the one that's going to tell him."

………

"Ah, hello again. Any chance I can speak with your master?"

"Insolent human!" the toad demon squawked, just as he had three days ago when Miroku had barged into the isolated residence on quite another errand.

"He's in the library, you say? Thanks." He stepped into the cool darkness of the house, turning only briefly to flash a cheesy grin and a victory salute to the group of monks assembled on the other side of the barrier. By the expressions on their faces, they fully expected never to see him alive again. Oddly enough, not one of them seemed too disheartened by the prospect.

Well, he wouldn't miss them either.

The toad clambered after him, screeching protests until Miroku "accidentally" brained him with the blunt end of his staff. The gold rings of the other end tinkled in the restored silence. He didn't know for certain that Lord Sesshomaru would be found in the library, but he decided to let his ears lead the way. After all, he could now hear the foreign, lighthearted sounds of a child's laughter coming from down the hallway.

His destination was indeed the library, and the scene that met Miroku's eyes stood in such stark contrast to the last time he had been in this room. Back then, the pall of death smothered the air, and the dead child lying before the fallen emperor had presented a picture of acute tragedy. Now, though, that same child danced around the room, grasping at the rays of sunshine filtering in through the open window. The sounds of life and happiness filled his ears as he paused in the doorway, making him feel oddly as though he had intruded upon someone's home rather than a prisoner's place of exile.

The girl abruptly stopped her play the moment she noticed him there. An instant later, a grin broke across her elfin face. "The flower man!" she squealed, bounding forward and throwing her arms around Miroku's knees in an exuberant greeting that took him completely by surprise.

"That's right," he managed, quickly recovering. "Here. I've brought you another." He slipped a blossom out of one voluminous sleeve, thankful that he had thought to pluck it on the way here. It was a bit crushed, to be sure, but she didn't seem to mind. Gasping in delight, she gingerly took the proffered gift, then dashed back into the room.

"Lord Sesshomaru! He brought me another pretty flower! See how pretty it is? Will you let me put it in your hair like the last one?"

Miroku quickly suppressed a snicker, earning himself a particularly reproving glare from the stoic dog demon. In truth, he had felt that keen-eyed gaze on him from the very moment he came to the room's threshold; Sesshomaru had no doubt smelled his scent long before he actually appeared. The dog demon remained languidly seated in one corner of the room, though Miroku had no doubt that he could be at his throat within the blink of an eye, if he so chose.

Rin, meanwhile, was already moving forward to complete her offer, but before her hand could touch Sesshomaru's long silver hair, he fluidly confiscated the sagging blossom from her grasp and tucked it behind her ear.

"This one's yours to wear," he stated, his tone seemingly holding no emotion, but his voice quiet and patient nonetheless.

The little girl tentatively reached one hand toward the flower's new location, her fingers brushing against its petals as her wide eyes remained fixed adoringly on the youkai. The next instant she beamed at him, then flung herself away, resuming her frenzied dance around the room.

"What is it you have to say to me?" Sesshomaru's amber gaze shifted to the open window as he waited for a response.

Miroku entered the library at last, skirting around the laughing child and coming to stand in the center of the room as one who was reporting to a superior. "A supply ship is due to arrive in two days," he stated.

The inuyoukai favored him with an arched eyebrow, silently willing him to further explain his purpose for coming.

"Brother Seikai has sent me to tell you that no part of those supplies will be yours unless you hand Rin over to the monks."

The laughter on the child's lips died, indicating that she paid far more attention to her surroundings than anyone suspected. Miroku locked eyes with Sesshomaru, forcing himself to remain relaxed. For an instant, the dog demon's gaze flashed red.

The next moment, he was in Miroku's face, a clawed hand clutching the monk's exposed throat. "And what, pray tell, will Brother Seikai do when I send his messenger back to him in small pieces?" he inquired with deadly calm, as though asking about nothing more significant than the weather.

Miroku's breath caught in his lungs, and he resisted the sudden urge to swallow, knowing that the dog demon's sharp claws would easily puncture his skin. An extremely tense moment passed.

"Rin doesn't want to leave Lord Sesshomaru."

The small, plaintive voice broke the silence of the room, accompanied by a sniffle. Sesshomaru, suddenly reminded of the girl's presence, released his hold and took a step back, his eyes briefly shifting from the monk to her, then back again.

Miroku nearly collapsed with relief. "You don't have to leave Lord Sesshomaru," he assured the child, whose brown eyes were quickly filling with tears. "Brother Seikai is a cranky, shortsighted man, and we don't have to do what he says."

Rin's troubled expression cleared to one of fragile hope, and she immediately looked to Sesshomaru for confirmation. The dog demon nodded curtly, the movement hardly discernable. Rin's own acknowledgment of their mute communication came much more slowly, manifesting in only a weak smile which quickly faded away into a somber expression.

"Rin," said Sesshomaru, and her eyes immediately snapped back up to his face. "Show Jaken your new flower."

Her head bobbed once, and she obediently turned and scampered from the room, her cries for the missing toad demon echoing back along the corridor.

"She really is devoted to you," Miroku observed, one corner of his mouth quirked in thoughtful amusement. "With little wonder, considering what you did for her..."

"You are not here on the errand of your fellow monk," Sesshomaru interrupted, plainly steering the conversation back to the issue at hand.

"Certainly I am," came the quick response. "I've given you his message, haven't I?"

"But you do not expect me to comply. Explain yourself."

"There's a supply ship due to arrive in two days." It was the second time he'd said as much, but this time, seemingly as an afterthought, he inquired, "What exactly binds you to this island, Lord Sesshomaru?" The dog demon's eyes narrowed, so Miroku hurried on. "A couple of barriers and an ill-equipped band of monks is all. Not that I don't think we couldn't hold you off for a short while, of course, but really, our defenses here are quite shabby, all things considered. If the barriers were to fail..."

"You seek to ally yourself with me, monk?" Sesshomaru asked with a hint of curiosity.

Miroku straightened his robes primly. "Let's put it this way: I'm stuck on this island until you either die or escape. And seeing as how you're several centuries away from dying, and I have no love for sand and stale rations, I see only one option before me."

"Betrayal?" There was definitely a note of scorn in his voice.

"I'd prefer to call it revenge," he immediately corrected, clenching his gloved fist. The action did not go unnoticed. "Or perhaps I should merely say that I've determined you to be more worthy of my loyalties. I did offer you redemption for a small favor, after all."

Sesshomaru withdrew Tenseiga from his belt, sheath and all, and leveled the sword on both hands, examining it with nonchalance. "I have a theory," he stated almost conversationally, "that anyone revived by this sword must remain loyal to me forever. That would certainly explain Rin's behavior. Shall I test it on you as well?"

"No need," the monk gulped, turning a shade paler as he lifted his hands defensively. "I'll swear an oath, if you wish, but you must know you've already earned my loyalty."

Sesshomaru grunted, one corner of his mouth curving slightly as he slid the sword back into its place at his side. "How exactly do you plan on destroying both barriers?" he inquired, his golden stare boring into Miroku as though seeing his very soul.

Once again feeling assured that he wasn't about to be killed, the monk breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "I'm glad you asked, actually..."

………

He ignored the gaping stares of his fellow monks as he casually strolled back through the barrier. "Sesshomaru took the news rather well," he cheerfully reported to Seikai, "but he has politely declined handing the girl over."

The head monk screwed up his mouth in annoyance before huffing angrily. "And he knows himself to be cut off? So be it, then! An inuyoukai may be able to last for long periods of time without food, but that little girl certainly can't. He'll have to hand her over or let her starve. Either way, the problem is eliminated."

The group of monks dissembled, muttering among themselves as they scattered back to their respective posts.

"Some of your brethren may meet an untimely end if this plan is carried out."

Sesshomaru's words from moments ago rang through his head as he watched them go. With a callous shrug, he turned and headed to his own assigned watch. "So be it, then," he murmured, purposely echoing Seikai's own words.

………

Rin crouched in the underbrush, waiting for the patrolling monk to move out of sight. _This is a fun game_, she thought to herself, tiny body tense and waiting for just the right moment. The black-and-gold clad figure disappeared behind a clump of trees, and she immediately leapt to her feet, dashing forward across the flat ground in front of her. It was soft and wet from the morning dew, the scrubby grass tickling her toes as she ran.

Lord Sesshomaru had told her to bring him the ribbons, so bring them she would. She reached the line of the inner barrier, the twine that looped from stake to stake. For a moment, she watched a few of the evenly spaced streamers fluttering in the breeze, their gentle movements enticing her to dance along with them. It really was a beautiful day for dancing...

Shaking herself from her distracted state, she reached forward one small hand and firmly grasped one of the stakes, a tingle rushing through her fingertips at the initial touch.

"Hey! What are you doing? Get away from there!" The second monk on patrol had emerged from the back, and Rin's gaze jerked up to see him sprinting toward her, rounding the barrier's circumference. A mischievous grin curved across her lips as she wrenched the stake out of the ground then promptly bolted back toward the house, fingers locked in a deathgrip around the smooth wood and laughter tumbling from her mouth all the way.

The twine and ribbons trailed after her, each successive stake ripped from the ground the further she ran. The poor patrolling monk didn't stand a chance.

* * *

A/N: Many thanks to all of my reviewers!


	7. Sins of the Father

Disclaimer: _InuYasha_ is the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi, and _The Count of Monte Cristo_ is a product of the brilliant mind of Alexandre Dumas. I own rights to neither and am writing this story for my own twisted amusement, not for profit.

* * *

Rising Sun

Chapter Seven—Sins of the Father

* * *

"Well, so much for your brilliant theory."

Miroku knew he was taking his life into his hands with that comment, but he just couldn't stop himself from making it. It helped to know that the dog demon standing only a meter away was more than likely in one of his better moods. After all, here they were, standing on the deck of a ship—the impending supply ship, to be exact—heading seaward and leaving behind a miserable island and an even more miserable set of monks. What was there to be upset about, really?

Sesshomaru didn't acknowledge him with so much as a glance, so Miroku continued conversationally, "Personally I don't know why you'd even want the loyalty of someone like Seikai anyway. Foul-tempered, unpleasant man, if I've ever met one. Then again," he added under his breath, "I don't understand why you keep your little toad around either."

The former emperor grunted, amber eyes briefly shifting toward the holy man. "In a position of power one often learns to accept whatever allies come along," he stated quietly, his candor surprising the monk next to him, and Miroku did not miss the implications with regards to their own alliance. "Besides, I did not wish for Rin to see that man's mangled corpse."

"Ah," said Miroku, inwardly musing on the morning's events. He recalled several of the monks fleeing in terror when they discovered the inner barrier to be destroyed. The island wasn't terribly large, but that didn't stop the cowards from trying to put some distance between themselves and the powerful youkai they had been assigned to keep imprisoned. Seikai and a handful of others had seen to their duty, pulling forth every spiritual ward in their arsenal in an attempt to restrain the newly freed prisoner. Of course, their efforts were in vain, but it provided for a nice distraction while Miroku worked on dismantling the outer barrier.

When Sesshomaru transformed into his true form, Seikai's allies abandoned the fight as well, tearing off into the tropical undergrowth to join their cowardly brethren. The elder monk alone remained, stubbornly continuing to combat even though every ofuda he threw sizzled and vanished upon contact with the massive dog.

Miroku came upon the battle scene just in time to see the commanding monk caught and crushed in enormous canine jaws. The red-eyed demon dog thrashed his head back and forth, shaking the life from his enemy before dropping the limp, ragged body to the ground with a sickening thud.

Much to the younger monk's surprise, Sesshomaru immediately reverted to his humanoid form, withdrawing Tenseiga from his belt and slashing through the dead man with a fluid grace to his every move. His theory about the sword, that Tenseiga's revival invoked a compulsory allegiance, played through Miroku's head as he watched the torn body resuscitate.

An instant later, Seikai was up and fighting again.

"You! Brother Miroku!" the elder monk had cried urgently upon catching sight of his supposed underling. "Don't just stand there! Help me to restrain him!"

Miroku's answer had been a quick swipe of his staff to the back of Seikai's head, knocking the man unconscious. They left him tied up inside one of the island huts with a gag in his mouth and a large lump on his head. The dark-haired monk still felt like a bit of a lout when he thought about it, but doubtless that feeling would soon pass. After all, Seikai had always distrusted and despised him. Now he merely had reason to back up those feelings.

"What was it you told the captain to make him let us on board?" the young monk asked abruptly, feeling the sea swell beneath their vessel. Sesshomaru had come out to the ship in a cloud of youki as soon as it had anchored in the bay. Shortly thereafter, a small dory had been sent to shore to retrieve Miroku, Jaken, and Rin. "He keeps looking your way like he's absolutely terrified of you."

Sesshomaru glanced negligently toward the sailor currently ordering around the rest of the crew. "That man is not the captain," he said simply, turning his attention back toward the sea.

"But... but..."

"He's the first mate," the dog demon supplied blandly. "This Sesshomaru disposed of the captain after he refused us passage."

"Ah." Well, that explained it. "Where are we headed, anyway?"

"North."

Obviously, Miroku thought sarcastically. "Back to Japan? The main island?"

Sesshomaru's negative response—a brief shake of the head—was almost imperceptible. "I have some other matters I must attend to first," he answered vaguely. A momentary silence settled between them before the demon spoke again, this time voicing a query of his own. "Why is your right hand warded, monk?"

The question startled Miroku, not only because it came from such a stoic individual, but also because it was a subject he wasn't entirely comfortable talking about. He lifted the hand in question, gazing at the fitted covering that masked his palm while leaving his fingers free. Then, his eyes wandered to the string of prayer beads wrapped snugly around his sheathed wrist and forearm.

"It's a reminder," he stated at long last. "The sins of the father visited upon the child, if you will." He felt that keen amber stare boring into him, expecting a further explanation. A bitter laugh escaped his lips. "My father was one of your spiritual guards a decade ago, did you know that? I can still picture the look of horror on his face the day he was assigned, too. No offense, but Nishi-no isn't exactly the cushiest position the Republic could hand out."

Sesshomaru grunted. "I remember your father," he pronounced, taking Miroku by surprise. Then, as explanation, he added, "You have similar scents."

The dark-haired monk was somewhat taken back to learn that the former prisoner recalled a jailer from a decade past, but he shrugged the feeling off. Sesshomaru was the type to know far more than he revealed, after all. "That's not our only similarity," Miroku commented dryly before continuing with his narrative. "But if you recall my father, doubtless you also recall a visitor to the island around that same time, a hanyou."

He watched closely for any sort of reaction, but by mere observation the dog demon appeared disinterested at best, inattentive at worst. By now, Miroku knew better than to trust his eyes, though.

"My father was the one who allowed that visitor access through the barrier," he explained, ever watchful. "Back then, the official rule was that 'neither man nor youkai was to be allowed ashore of the island.' A hanyou _is_ neither, so my father wasn't precisely breaking the rules, but when officials of the Republic found out about it... well, to put it mildly, they weren't happy. He was summoned back to Japan to go before a high-ranking demon and receive his punishment."

Miroku paused to swallow the lump that had suddenly caught in his throat, his face remaining emotionless, his inner weakness hidden behind a strong facade. The inuyoukai next to him could probably sense his bitterness and anger, but he would be damned if he actually let it show. "My father's hand was pierced with a bottomless hole, a void which sucked in everything surrounding it. Only a sutra of prayer beads could control it, but even that didn't keep it from slowly expanding and growing in strength. After five years, it consumed him, pulling him into the void. And the very day of his death," he concluded, suddenly sounding tired, "a tiny hole appeared in my own hand, its winds feeble but promising destruction nonetheless."

Sesshomaru was silent for a long moment, his eyes focused on the rippling waves of the vast ocean. "There is no cure?" he finally inquired.

"None that I know of, except to kill the demon who administered the curse. Right now, the hole in my own hand measures only slightly larger than the original hole pierced through my father's, so I have a couple of years left, I suppose. Besides," he added with a mirthless laugh, "my father's punishment could have been worse. I mean, they just executed the hanyou outright."

If he hadn't been paying such close attention, Miroku would have missed a slight stiffening in Sesshomaru's posture. "Is that right?" the dog demon stated as though the information was of no interest to him.

"So I was told," he shrugged, for the moment choosing to act oblivious. "Very low tolerance, these government officials. Think you can do something about it?"

Sesshomaru's jaw tightened, his expression cold as stone. "I plan on it," he replied simply.

Without another word, the youkai turned and strolled off toward the cabins he had commandeered, where Rin and Jaken were currently sequestered. The sailors working the ship scattered out of his way like a frightened flock of sheep fleeing a ravenous beast, although Miroku noted with satisfaction that a handful among them bowed deferentially toward the former emperor as he passed.

………

"No, no, no! You've got it all wrong!"

"What are you talking about, you old fart? I'm doing exactly what you showed me!"

"Count on me to have a half-wit for a pupil!"

"Why you—!"

"Ow! What was that for? Listen, boy, if you can't handle instruction, you'll never amount to anything. Now do you want to learn, or not?"

Inuyasha glared down at the hunched fire demon, who was currently sporting a large goose egg atop his bald pate. Totosai huffed indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting for an answer. A frustrated growl escaped the hanyou's throat. "Show me," he grumbled, shoving the practice blade into the old man's spindly hands.

With an expertise belied by his age and seemingly feeble body, the master swordsmith ran through a series of movements, his face schooled to a determined expression. In truth, the sight was rather impressive. Just to be insolent, though, Inuyasha feigned a theatrical yawn the moment the youkai finished. Totosai heaved from the exertion of his exercise, all the while glaring at his arrogant pupil. "Did you see what you were doing wrong?" he demanded, thrusting the weapon back toward Inuyasha. "What did I do that you were leaving out?"

The half-demon arched an eyebrow. "I sure hope you're not talking about how your tongue hangs out the side of your mouth when you're trying to concentrate, because there's no way in hell I'm mimicking that."

Totosai narrowed his owlish eyes and opened his mouth, no doubt intending to start another lecture. The words froze on his lips when they both heard the sound of a key in his cell door. For a moment, they stared dumbly at the portal as the key caught in the lock. Then—

"Into the hole!" Totosai hissed needlessly, for Inuyasha had already leapt across the cell, diving for the tunnel opening. The old man scrambled after him, heaving the stone that blocked off that end of the passageway. "Go back to your own cell—I'll come for you after he's gone," he told the hanyou lingering in the darkness. He unceremoniously fit the flagstone back into place, tossing some dirt and dingy straw over it before throwing himself onto his futon.

The second lock clicked in the door, and the person on the other side moved to the third and final mechanism. "He's early," Totosai mumbled, arranging himself in a casual, cross-legged position. He cast a nervous glance toward the row of unfinished swords resting near his anvil. Gatenmaru wasn't due to collect them for another week. This could mean one of two things: either the order was being altered, or the moth demon was in a particularly sadistic mood and needed someone weak to exercise his wrath upon. It was a nuisance either way.

Surprise overtook him when the door swung open to reveal two torch-bearing youkai guards instead of the usual sour-faced monks. They marched solemnly into the cell, stationing themselves on either side of the door. Behind them came a young, black-and-purple-clad monk, peering around the room and at Totosai in particular with open curiosity. The visitor immediately on his heels, however, received the old swordsmith's full, astonished attention. The ancient youkai felt his bulging eyes bug out even more than normal, if that were possible, and his jaw momentarily went slack.

"Old Totosai," said the deep, flat voice that he remembered all too well. "I trust you've been enjoying your stay here?"

"S-Sesshomaru," the old man stuttered, taking in the sight of his former emperor, the luminous silver hair, the sharp amber eyes, and the distinctive demon markings that testified of his royal blood.

Wasn't he supposed to be in exile?

Totosai's surprise instantly dissolved as a lax expression washed over his features. "It's been a while, Sesshomaru. I had heard you were sent on an extended vacation," he chortled. "Did the weather on your little island not agree with you?"

Rather than respond, the stoic dog demon diverted his attention to his own shoulder, delicately plucking a minuscule piece of lint from his pristine white haori. The only sign that he had even heard the swordsmith's cheeky remark manifested in a slight thinning of his lips.

"Jaken," he said toward the doorway.

"Yes, my lord?" a zealous toad demon scuttled into view, bowing sycophantically.

"This Sesshomaru does not wish to sit upon the floor."

The toad squawked in panic as he bolted from the cell once more. "A chair!" his frantic voice rang out, echoing through the stone corridor. "Quickly! Someone fetch a chair for the all-powerful Lord Sesshomaru! Make haste! Make haste, you worthless fools!"

Totosai suppressed the sudden urge to cackle, turning his attention just in time to see the icy inuyoukai... _Did he just roll his eyes?_ he mentally gasped, but he resolved the next moment that he must have been mistaken.

The chair presently made its appearance, deposited in the center of the cell by a mute guard while Jaken scurried around like a newly decapitated chicken.

"Make sure you don't place it in a draft! Is this the best chair you could find? Perhaps we should locate a cushion! Don't just stand there, you foolish guards! We must attend to Lord Sesshomaru's every comfort..."

The dog demon briefly stooped to pick up a small lump of metal resting at his feet, a castoff bit from one of Totosai's more recent swords. He inspected it with disinterest as Jaken continued to scramble about the cell, squawking out orders. One expert flick later, the devoted servant lay upon the stone floor in an unconscious, blissfully silent heap.

Sesshomaru fluidly sank into the proffered chair, his movements seemingly languid and his keen eyes never leaving Totosai's face.

"Your time is valuable," he started in dry sarcasm, "so let's get right to the point. You know what this Sesshomaru has come for."

"So kind of you to visit a doddering old man," Totosai prattled in a slightly senile tone of voice, his wide eyes glazing over. "Your father would be so proud..."

"I've come for the Tetsusaiga," Sesshomaru interrupted bluntly. "You will tell me where it is hidden." The tone was imperious, brooking no contradiction.

Totosai apparently missed that particular undertone. "No."

One of the inuyoukai's hands clenched momentarily into a fist as he watched the ancient demon before him draw his mouth up into a stubborn set. "You must be enjoying this hellhole, old man."

"No, not particularly, now that you mention it. I miss Momo."

"Tell me where Tetsusaiga is, and I shall set you free."

"No."

Sesshomaru favored the ancient swordsmith with a freezing deathglare but refused to lower himself to petty arguing.

"I've already given you your birthright, Sesshomaru," the old man added with a sigh. "I've told you numerous times that Tenseiga was meant for your hands. You carry it with you still, I see."

Golden eyes flicked to the dark-hilted sword. "This Sesshomaru acknowledges Tenseiga as a worthy creation," he stated slowly, and Totosai felt his jaw drop. That was probably the closest thing to an expression of gratitude that he would ever hear from the former emperor. "However," the dog demon continued with an edge to his voice, "it will not suit my purposes at this time. So I'll give you another chance. Give me the Tetsusaiga."

"No. Sorry," he added meekly. He saw a muscle ripple along the imperial youkai's jaw and could almost hear Sesshomaru's teeth grinding together. "The Tetsusaiga is not yours to weild," Totosai volunteered apologetically, breaking a long moment of silence between the two. "It was your father's express wish that it be given to his _younger_ son. To that end was it made."

"That _hanyou_," the former emperor pronounced with clear distaste, "was entitled to no inheritance. Or don't you know the conditions of a morganatic alliance?"

"Yes, yes," Totosai waved the comment aside. "Why on earth do you think the location of the sword was entrusted to me? Technically, it's not an inheritance because it was never part of your father's estate. Such a lovely little loophole." He cackled heartily, knowing it would only infuriate the dog demon before him, and knowing even more that Sesshomaru would not risk killing him and losing the location of the Tetsusaiga forever.

The stoic inuyoukai leaned forward and spoke so quietly that even with his enhanced hearing Totosai had to strain to understand the words.

"I _need_ that sword."

The two stared at one another for a long moment before Sesshomaru's molten gaze briefly shifted back first toward the two guards on either side of the door, then the monk who was shamelessly eavesdropping as best he could. "The world beyond these prison walls has changed, Totosai. My father's empire was thrown into ruins, and I need Tetsusaiga to help restore it. You hold no allegiance to me—that much is apparent—but in the name of _his_ memory..."

It was rare for the proud inuyoukai to offer such explanations to anyone, and Totosai knew it. This was the closest the imperial demon would ever come to begging, this invocation of his father's legacy. At the moment, Totosai wanted nothing more than to comply, to live up to the dynasty he had served for the greater part of his life. Still, the old fire youkai shook his head sadly, his wasted shoulders slumping.

"You just don't understand, Sesshomaru. Even if I _were_ to tell you the resting place of the Steel Fang, you wouldn't be able to wield it. No demon can."

Lord Sesshomaru stiffened, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Explain."

"Tetsusaiga currently has more powerful spells warding it than any demon could possibly break. Your father himself couldn't touch it by the time we finished forging it, which is why it remains in that same hidden location, still resting on the anvil I used."

"What is the purpose of a demon sword that no demon can bear?" Sesshomaru demanded, momentary ire flaring in his eyes.

"Well, it wasn't meant to be a demon sword," Totosai shrugged. "Any human can pick it up, but in such hands it is only a simple katana with no special abilities or attributes. It is powered by youki but requires human blood to be wielded. It's a hanyou's sword, plain and simple."

A heavy breath pushed its way out the inuyoukai's nostrils as his jaw contracted. "So I would need to enlist the aid of a hanyou if I wish to use its power?" he clarified.

"Well..." Totosai's voice trailed off in hesitation, and he mindlessly twiddled his thumbs while averting his eyes.

"What is it, old man?"

"Not just _any_ hanyou," he admitted reluctantly. "One whose demon blood is strong enough to power the sword."

"So I must enlist the aid of a powerful hanyou," Sesshomaru pronounced, his tone thick with doubt and contempt. He obviously did not believe such a thing even existed.

"Well..." Totosai reluctantly said again, another contradiction on the tip of his tongue.

Sesshomaru favored him with a flat glare, mutely commanding him to speak.

"Tetsusaiga was designed with its future master in mind," he said apologetically. Admitting this much was as good as signing his death sentence. After all, Sesshomaru had only kept him alive thus far on the hopes of one day extorting the coveted sword from him. And yet, after twenty-some-odd years cooped up in this demon's hell, he was willing to wager on even the slightest chance of deliverance. With a deep breath, he plunged ahead, suddenly determined to seal his fate one way or the other. "There really is only one hanyou that can wield it: Inuyasha."

"Inuyasha," Sesshomaru pronounced, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off his sudden headache, "is dead. He was executed years ago for treason to the Republic."

Silence descended as a smothering blanket, the cell completely still but for the flickers of torchlight. Sesshomaru's words hung in the air, his expression unreadable as always, though his eyes seemed a little tired. The demon blacksmith stared at him uncomfortably, fidgeting slightly. At long last, a single word punctured the quiet atmosphere.

"Well..."

………

Inuyasha flopped on his back next to the gaping tunnel opening, feeling the press of cool stone through his thin shirt. He felt some apprehension about waiting here for Totosai rather than staying down in the tunnel itself. Truth be told, though, even after six years worth of digging, he still felt a little claustrophobic when he was underground. In former times he had thought his cell to be cramped and oppressive, but it was downright spacious when compared with the close walls and narrow passageways of the maze of corridors he helped carve through the prison's earthen foundation.

So rather than linger beneath Totosai's floor to catch snippets of conversation, he followed orders and returned to his own cell. A tiny flame danced next to him, emanating from an extra lantern Totosai had given him long ago. Its dim light cast feeble shadows across the room, but it was more than enough for the hanyou's satisfaction. He always felt much calmer with even a pitifully weak light source nearby.

Gatenmaru had better be quick, he thought to himself, squashing his apprehension at having left Totosai to deal with the prison caretaker alone. It happened on a fairly regular basis, the moth demon showing up to make requests for swords and then coming again to collect the order. The last time he had appeared early, some two years previous, he had viciously beaten the old man for "shirking his duty," claiming that the weapons should have been finished already.

Inuyasha had emerged from the tunnel to find poor old Totosai a bruised and bloody mess, much like he himself was every new moon. The elderly fire demon had proved resilient enough in his recovery, but that didn't stop the hanyou from wanting to rip out Gatenmaru's spleen.

"Five more minutes, and then I'm going after him," he muttered to the ceiling, completely disregarding the fact that he had no way of telling when such an increment of time had actually passed. This time, he decided firmly, if he arrived at the end of the tunnel to overhear Gatenmaru abusing Totosai... this time he would leap through the entrance and kill that filthy moth. He tented his knees and idly began counting the stones in the ceiling, biding his time until he could justify heading back to Totosai's cell.

A key slid into the door lock, metal grating against metal.

In complete shock, Inuyasha bolted upright, staring at the cell door, certain he had heard wrong. The first mechanism within the door, though, unlatched with a satisfying click. His door only had two locks.

Inuyasha jumped to his feet, blowing out the lantern and shoving the flagstone back into its place in the floor. Then, he crouched at the back of his darkened cell, poised and ready to spring. The new moon wasn't for another ten days at the very least. Someone on the other side had made a very serious miscalculation, or else they had finally determined to put him out of his misery. Either way, he was ready to fight.

The door swung outward, bright torchlight flooding in to replace the loss of the tiny lantern. Inuyasha caught himself from springing forward when his senses were suddenly assaulted with the smells of several unknown individuals: some foreign demons and a human first, but Totosai's scent mingled in the mix, along with another hauntingly familiar one...

"The odors of this prison are almost strong enough to cover up your hanyou stench, halfling. Though I seriously doubt anything could accomplish such a feat."

That cold, heartless voice... Inuyasha felt his hackles rise even as his jaw dropped. His upper lip curled into a snarl and he tensed with rage as the speaker darkened his cell doorway and regarded him disdainfully.

"You," the hanyou growled, amber eyes narrowed with hatred.

"What? No formal greeting for your elder brother?" Sesshomaru inquired, negligently stepping into the room.

* * *

A/N: This wasn't where the chapter was supposed to end originally, but it seemed like such a good place to stop... Anyhoo, I have a few little items to discuss here. Those of you who don't want to bother with reading them can go straight to the review button... heh.

First off, I just want to apologize in advance for the future sporadic updates. I was doing so well there for a bit, but we all knew it had to come to an end some time. Okay, I knew. The holiday season is upon us, and I'm currently embroiled in many projects, organizations, etc., on top of holding down a full-time job and doing the occasional beta-read for two lovely authors (Lavender Valentine and Kyia Star - check out their work sometime!). Toss in my increasingly frequent bouts with the Dreaded Writer's Block, and there you have it. Things should get better once January rolls around—I'm crossing my fingers and hoping for the best, anyway—but I just wanted to forewarn. I'm courteous like that. ;-)

The second issue is actually one I'd like to ignore (and one that I have been ignoring for a while now), but I think I should at least address it before going back to feigned obliviousness. Several people have reviewed with regards to the pairings for this fic, some asking what they were, others making assumptions, whatever. Here's the thing: I'm not writing a romance. Those of you who have read _The Count of Monte Cristo_ (emphasis on _read_) probably have an inkling of how things are going to end up. That said, my purpose in writing this story is not to bring together two particular characters with much fluff and happiness. Do I have my pairings in mind? Yes. Are they my focus? No. _Rising Sun_ is basically the result of my overly-analytical mind seeing a fair number of parallels between my two primary sources, and then running wild with them. It's more of a character study than anything else.

Anyway, I can already tell that I'm going to disappoint some of my readers (maybe all of them), but I'm not about to compromise the vision I have for this story just because people disagree with how I'm crafting it. I do hate disappointing people, but sometimes it can't be helped. Sorry.

And finally, there is a chance that the rating for this fic will be upped to "R" in coming chapters, not for language or sexual content, but because of good old graphic violence. My writing muse dictated a scene to me a few weeks back that is probably a little too mature for a PG-13 fic, and I am now faced with the dilemma of either revising or re-rating. I still have some ground to cover before that scene would appear, though, so this is just a heads-up.

As long as I'm being uber-serious, I'd also like to express gratitude to all you readers, and especially to those of you who review. To be honest, I've never felt much of an urge to publish any of my writings until this fic came along, and the feedback I've received thus far really means a lot to me. So thank you. May you each wake up on Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwaanza/Random Non-Denominational Holiday morning with multitudinous gifts bearing your name! And when you do, just remember, they're not from Santa or your loving relatives. They're from me. You're welcome.

-Tish


	8. Freedom at What Cost

Disclaimer: _InuYasha_ is the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi, and _The Count of Monte Cristo_ is a product of the brilliant mind of Alexandre Dumas. I own rights to neither and am writing this story for my own twisted amusement, not for profit.

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Rising Sun

Chapter Eight—Freedom at What Cost

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"So... what's a nice looking monk like you doing in a stinking cesspool like this?" 

Miroku inwardly prayed that this was not, in fact, a pick-up line coming from the shriveled old fire youkai next to him. Turning slowly, a mild, insincere smile ornamenting his face, he shrugged. "Just lucky, I guess." _Not._ "Someone had to come along to peel off the demon wards outside your cell, and Lord Sesshomaru doesn't exactly trust the resident holy men."

"Can't say as I blame him," Totosai huffed, wrinkling his nose grotesquely. "Nasty lot they are. Knew you weren't one of _them_ from the get-go." He heartily slapped Miroku on the back, causing the young monk to lurch forward.

"Um... thanks," Miroku said uncertainly, regaining his balance and unconsciously straightening his robes.

"Of course," the fire youkai continued with a distracted expression, "I think all you holy men are a pretty filthy group. Useless, evil, self-serving bunch of zealots, every last one of you. I haven't met a single one that wasn't corrupt in some way or another..."

"Why exactly did Lord Sesshomaru insist upon entering that cell alone?" Miroku interrupted, pointedly changing the subject. His gaze shifted down the hall to the open doorway into which the inuyoukai had disappeared only moments earlier. A couple of the youkai guards barred him from getting any closer, thus preventing him from catching even a snippet of conversation over the echoing wails of the other prisoners.

Totosai merely shrugged his wasted shoulders. "Eh, family reunion. I'm guessing he didn't want anyone else witnessing their meeting. They're not exactly close, you know."

"Then the prisoner in that cell really is his brother?"

"Half-brother, yeah. Their father secretly hoped they'd one day get along, but... well, they don't really have much in common. And it doesn't exactly help matters that Sesshomaru was all for killing the hanyou runt the day he was born."

Miroku's eyebrows shot up, but otherwise he concealed his surprise well. "Yes," he said after a moment, "I suppose that would put a damper on their relationship."

"You betcha!" Totosai crowed, slapping him on the back again. Just as before, Miroku lurched forward, this time catching himself with his staff. As he straightened and steadied his balance, only one thought rippled through his normally overactive mind.

That was going to get real old, real soon.

………

The Fates were mocking him. There was no other explanation. They were mocking him, rolling on the ground and laughing at his misery. As if it wasn't bad enough to be relegated to this pitch black demon's hell, now he had to suffer his older half-brother witnessing his debasement. Sesshomaru stood out from the surrounding grime as the sun would stand out in the night sky. He had no place here. Not for the first time in his life, Inuyasha felt the difference between them keenly—a clean, full-blooded demon and a filthy half-breed.

"What the hell are you doing here?" The question tore itself out of the hanyou's throat, laced with blind rage. He still crouched upon the floor, claws tense and body coiled to spring. Humiliation at being found in such a state of degradation coursed through his veins, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to tear his half-brother into tiny pieces.

"Get up, Inuyasha," Sesshomaru commanded dismissively. "I have no intention of remaining in this fetid pit for longer than is necessary."

"What the hell are you doing here?" he repeated, snarling.

Sesshomaru's amber gaze darted about the tiny cell in vague disinterest. "I should think you would be more than willing to leave such a place behind, no questions asked," he commented blandly.

"L-leave it?" Inuyasha's mouth had suddenly gone dry. He hadn't remembered falling asleep, but he was certain that he must be dreaming. For one thing, the chances of someone walking into his cell and offering him freedom were slim at best. And the chances of that person being Sesshomaru... well, those were basically nonexistent. He pinched himself—hard—and winced at the pain it caused. Nope, not sleeping...

"I didn't expect when you were born a half-breed that you would also turn out to be a half-wit," Sesshomaru quipped sarcastically, having observed the hanyou's antics, "but it's hardly surprising. Now say your farewells to your favorite rocks. We're leaving."

Several things clicked in Inuyasha's mind at once. "Hold on," he stated suspiciously, even as his half-brother turned away from him, back toward the cell's threshold. "What's the catch? I mean, you and I... well, it's not as though you've ever done me any favors before now."

The inuyoukai paused in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame. "Perhaps you're not as idiotic as you appear," he said with a veiled note of approval. He cast a molten stare back toward the tattered hanyou. "In exchange for your freedom, I demand your undying fealty, Inuyasha. No more, no less."

The words hung in the air between them, a simple enough request. And yet, in Inuyasha's life, nothing ever was as simple as it seemed.

"You've gotta be kidding me!" he scoffed, flopping down on the floor in disbelief.

With one silver eyebrow arched, his half-brother stepped back into the grimy cell. "I hardly think it's too much to ask, given the circumstances."

"Like hell it's not too much to ask," Inuyasha shot back. "You want me to swear an oath of fealty? To just forget that you tossed me and my mother into the streets to starve all those years ago when Father died?"

The former emperor's response was cold, emotionless. "I was within the bounds of the law, halfling. Besides, your mother was of noble blood and had a clan to return to."

"They had disowned her for marrying a demon!"

"And that is somehow my fault?"

The logic behind Sesshomaru's words was undeniable. After all, Inuyasha could hardly blame him for the shortsighted prejudice of Izayoi's people. And yet, he still couldn't help but cast some responsibility at his half-brother's door, the memory of his poor, heartsick mother emblazoned on his mind. "You condemned us to poverty and starvation," he accused, glowering up at him.

Sesshomaru seemed to consider this for a moment, his expression hooded. "You think I should have allowed your mother to remain at the palace?" he inquired at last. "Even though she would have been slaughtered by the revolutionaries when that time came?"

The half-demon on the ground sat up stiffly. "What do you mean?"

"Use your brains, Inuyasha, what little you have. The only reason this Sesshomaru was kept alive was to appease the demon allies of the revolution. A former imperial consort and her hanyou pup would have been slain without a second thought, and without so much as a tear shed on their behalf. So you _could_ say that in sending you both away, I spared your lives."

Inuyasha snorted, dismissing the argument entirely. "If that was the case, it was purely by accident."

An impatient breath escaped the inuyoukai's mouth, a controlled display of veiled irritation. "This Sesshomaru grows weary of this conversation, little brother. Do you swear your loyalty now and gain your freedom, or shall I put you out of your misery and leave your carcass as a plaything for the next occupant of this cell?"

He wanted to refuse, he really did. Every prideful bone in his body wanted to take his brother's offer and fling it back into his face with a sneer and an obscene gesture. At the same time, though, he knew that was quite possibly the stupidest thing he could do in this lifetime. "Just answer me this, Sesshomaru," he finally stated, reluctant to submit to his elder's will. "What exactly do you need me for?"

"This Sesshomaru does not _need_ you."

"Like hell," he scoffed. "If that were the case, you'd have passed right by my cell without stopping. So what is it that my fealty gets you?"

For a moment, he wondered whether the regal dog demon would even answer. Sesshomaru's golden eyes fixed on the opposite wall, a muscle along his jaw rippling as a sure sign of annoyance.

"It is Totosai's doing," he said at last, ambiguous to the end. "Are you fool enough to refuse?"

Inuyasha cast a contemplative glance toward the open doorway, from whence the fire youkai's scent wafted strong. So the old man had finally found a way out for both of them... A grim smile tilted one corner of the hanyou's mouth. "Lead the way, oh Fearless One," he mockingly said, bowing his head with an exaggerated flourish.

It was enough. Sesshomaru swept from the cell without so much as a backward glance. Picking himself up off the ground, Inuyasha was a little slower in his egress, looking around the hated room with an odd feeling akin to regret. Ten years he had spent here... ten wasted years...

He made a rude gesture toward the mute walls before slinking through the door and leaving them behind forever.

Out in the corridor, past a couple of anonymous guards, awaited Totosai and a young monk, the latter regarding him with a serious expression, and the former trying to appear innocent while avoiding eye contact.

"Looks like you got us out after all, old fart," Inuyasha commented dryly as he passed them both to follow his brother's retreating figure. Sesshomaru wouldn't bother to make sure they were all coming, and Inuyasha wasn't about to let him out of his sight just yet. The others fell in step behind him, and they began their ascent from the bowels of the demon prison.

The stone corridors and stairwells seemed to press in on the hanyou, and he found himself blocking out the screams behind nearly every door he passed—screams for a freedom he had just been granted, that those voices would never glimpse. With every step he took, the prison seemed to bear down upon him as though trying to crush him, to make him remain forever. What if it were all an illusion...? He set his jaw and walked on.

His memories of coming to this place were vague at best, so he really had no clue how far they were going to have to climb, or how long the trek out would take. He felt anticipation well up within him even as a small part of his brain told him he was dreaming, that in moments he would wake up still within his cell, still with miles of tunnel left to dig. He didn't entirely trust his mind, after all. In fact, there were still times when he wondered whether he had imagined Totosai into existence as well. A person's descent into madness was often supposed to be undetectable to the individual involved...

The regal youkai a few paces ahead of him stopped abruptly, and Inuyasha nearly ran into him. "What the—?" he started, but Sesshomaru held up a hand for silence. The others in their little party, including a small toad demon whom Inuyasha had previously not noticed, gathered around the hanyou apprehensively, their curious gazes directed toward the frozen former emperor.

Even though its scent was diffused by all the other scents of the prison, Inuyasha smelled the threat before it materialized. He could also hear several sets of footsteps marching their direction. Peering up the long corridor ahead, he let a low growl rumble from his throat, his claws tensing with anticipation.

Sesshomaru threw a derisive glance over his shoulder. "Stay back and be silent," he imperiously commanded, stepping forward a few paces. Inuyasha would have followed, but he suddenly found two youkai guards sidling up to him, ready to ensure that he remained where he was.

At the far end of the hall, Gatenmaru rounded the corner with three spiritual guards in tow.

"What is the meaning of this?" the moth demon demanded, glaring past Sesshomaru to the two prisoners. "I allowed you access to the prison cells, my lord, but I cannot permit you to free anyone. You know full well that no prisoner leaves these walls alive! These prisoners are my—"

He made the mistake of getting within arm's length of the dog demon, and his words let off in a strangled choke as Sesshomaru's hand automatically went around his throat. Gatenmaru's eyes bulged out as he struggled for air. The three monks behind him rushed forward to free their leader, but Sesshomaru struck them down without so much as a glance in their direction, a whip of acidic green jyaki lashing out from the fingertips of his free hand to slice through them.

Their bodies tumbled to the ground, dead before they even knew what had hit them.

Gatenmaru, meanwhile, clawed at the inuyoukai's arm, desperately trying to get free, to get one precious breath of air. His wide eyes stared into the molten amber gaze of his attacker, pleading for release, for mercy...

"Your permission was never required," the dog demon stated calmly. In response, Gatenmaru tried to nod, his lips moving in a voiceless apology, his fingers still prying at the grip to his throat and involuntary tears spilling from the corners of his frenzied eyes. A loud, sickening crunch sounded through the corridor, and the moth demon slumped to the floor, lifeless.

In the ensuing stillness, Sesshomaru stared down at the four bodies, one hand falling to Tenseiga's hilt at his waist, his expression blank. "Jaken," he said quietly.

"Y-yes, my lord?" the toad demon timidly spoke up, half-hiding behind Inuyasha's leg.

A long moment of silence passed, and the youkai's audience waited breathlessly to hear what he had to say. Sesshomaru himself seemed to contemplate his words carefully, for when he spoke at last, it was in tones of iron firmness.

"It appears this prison needs a new caretaker. See that someone is appointed." Without another word, he purposefully strode past the carnage, leaving behind a gaping party of followers to stare after him.

Inuyasha was the first to regain his senses. "You bastard!" he cried in rage to his half-brother's retreating back. "You killed him!"

Sesshomaru halted and turned an inquiring, slightly mocking gaze upon on him. "You were attached, perhaps?"

"What? No! _I_ was supposed to kill him, bastard!"

An unmistakable smirk twisted the inuyoukai's lips, and Inuyasha could have sworn he heard a short, derisive laugh escape Sesshomaru's mouth before the dog demon wordlessly swept off toward their exit.

"Bastard," the hanyou muttered under his breath, slumping into a sullen lope down the corridor, trailing after his half-brother. "Of all the stupid, selfish..." He shot a disgruntled sneer at Gatenmaru's corpse as he passed it, unable even to bring himself to kick the hated moth demon now that he was already dead.

Totosai, on the other hand, had no such scruples. "Asshole," the old man snorted, roundly booting the dead caretaker in the gut. "Serves you right!" He cackled with satisfaction, then pranced on up the hall. Behind him, the dark-haired monk paused momentarily to make a half-hearted sign of reverence over the slaughter.

The stoic youkai guards and the toad demon didn't even spare the carnage a second glance.

………

It wafted toward him like a tantalizing, intoxicating aroma, that first breath of fresh air. So long had he dwelt underground that Inuyasha hardly recognized the scent of the outside world, but its salty tang brought back such memories...

The passageway had lightened considerably, and at the next corner, the white light of day scattered feebly across the ground as though cast from some distance. As the group rounded on that final corridor, the hanyou was forced to halt, covering his eyes with his forearm, momentarily blinded by the brilliance at the end of the hall.

Totosai was squinting as well, steadfastly pressing forward even while shading his owlish eyes from the dazzling sunlight beyond. His ancient feet picked up their eager pace as he sidled passed the stationary hanyou, until he was all but running toward the exit.

"Free! Free!" His voice echoed back down into the abyss, its jubilant tones in stark contrast with the cacophony of despair left behind. "Free!"

Still, Inuyasha stood motionless, his light-starved eyes burning as they adjusted to long-forgotten brightness, his ears barraged with sounds he had thought never to hear again... sounds of waves crashing against the shore, of gulls held aloft on the air currents...

"I think we've lost one of our number," he heard someone say, and he peered toward the exit, recognizing the silhouette of the young monk against the bright, sunlit portal. No one else seemed to be waiting for him, but he stepped forward with chagrin all the same. The brilliance was overwhelming as he forced his eyes to remain open, forced them to adjust to the world beyond the stone prison walls.

The sky was blue, a wonderful, pure, cloudless blue.

He couldn't stop the choked sob of relief that wrenched from his throat, though he was able to suppress the tears stinging his eyes and the sudden urge to drop to his knees to run his claws through the sand. Lips parted in a faint smile, he glanced around, reacquainting himself with the outside world.

Totosai had dashed off to the ocean and was splashing in the waves now, laughing like a senile idiot as he joyously flung water into the air. His overflowing exuberance made a striking contrast against Inuyasha's staid hesitance. The others of the group had their attention divided between the two prisoners, observing the liberation in vaguely amused silence.

"Lord Sesshomaru!"

Of all the sounds Inuyasha had anticipated hearing, the voice of a child was not one of them, especially not a human child calling the name of his heartless half-brother. Yet here, sprinting across the sand came a little girl with a gap-toothed grin plastered across her face and a youkai guard dashing quickly on her heels, trying to intercept her.

"Lord Sesshomaru!" she squealed again, but then slid to an abrupt halt, her wide brown eyes catching sight of Inuyasha a few paces behind the imperial youkai. One small hand immediately darted up to pinch her delicate nose.

"Lord Sesshomaru," she protested with innocent distaste, "that dog-man is stinky!"

"Inuyasha," Sesshomaru cast over his shoulder, "do us all a favor and bathe yourself."

He couldn't even muster a weak snort, simply taking himself away, toward the inviting waves of the ocean, hardly caring that the command had come from his despised half-brother. Treading through the sand, he peeled his tattered shirt from his back, casting it aside and deciding at once that he would go shirtless before donning it again.

The waves struck him with force as he heedlessly waded in, the tang of salt strong on his tongue. He loved the sea, had missed the sea, and so it was appropriate that his first act as a free man was to commune with the sea, in a way. Plunging beneath its rippling surface, he allowed it to toss him, to carry him, his body reveling in the foreign sensation of water against his skin.

Some time later, he emerged sand-scrubbed and dripping, marveling at how pale his skin was beneath its freshly scoured redness. His sailor's tan had disappeared in his years of entrapment, leaving him a ghostly white, like a court lady.

Yet another reason to go shirtless...

"I've brought you a change of clothes," a voice spoke, calling him from his reverie. "You should probably put them on, or risk getting the sunburn of your life."

He looked up to find the monk standing on the shore, holding out a set of folded garments and wearing a rather grim expression.

"A couple sunburns'll do me good," he replied, ignoring the offer. "Where's everyone else?"

"Lord Sesshomaru has returned to the ship and desires me to tell you that we will depart with the tide. Your fire-youkai friend, last I saw, was sprinting down the beach naked and screaming something about ridding himself of all tokens of bondage. The soldiers engaged in a brief skirmish with the remaining prison monks, and are now involved in a game of dice to see who will get left behind here as a garrison. And Jaken is off chasing Rin, probably trying to make sure she doesn't catch sight of Totosai and become traumatized for life."

"Who the hell are you, anyway?" inquired Inuyasha as he twisted the water from his long hair.

"I'm the son of a man who died for your crimes."

_That _certainly got his attention. His abstracted gaze jerked up and focused on the black-and-purple-clad monk, who seemed to be inordinately calm for such a pronouncement. "What the hell are you talking about?"

The monk, though, merely broke into a vapid smile and waved one placating hand. "Oh, nothing. Did you want these clothes, or not?"

Inuyasha snatched the bundle away, eyeing its bearer suspiciously.

"My name's Miroku," the holy man offered, politely turning around to allow a small measure of privacy to the changing hanyou.

"Yeah? How'd you get tangled up in Sesshomaru's company?"

"My own good fortune, I suppose," his voice rang back, careless. "I was one of his guards at Nishi-no, but the lifestyle didn't suit me. Lord Sesshomaru was kind enough to let me tag along when he escaped."

"And when was that?"

"About... three weeks ago? We've been sailing around visiting hidden pockets of imperialists ever since, picking up allies along the way. For someone who's been out of the loop for more than twenty years, Lord Sesshomaru is surprisingly well-informed on the whereabouts of his supporters."

"Somehow I'm not surprised." Inuyasha had finished donning the new clothes and glanced around now, wondering what to do with the sodden, tattered hakama he had just divested from his person. Finally, he decided merely to discard it on the sand with an indifferent shrug. As he did so, he could feel the holy man's eyes boring into him, scrutinizing him closely. "What's eating you, monk?" he demanded with a borderline hostile glare.

Miroku's mouth was drawn in a grim, tight line. "I believe you and I may have a common enemy, actually."

"So you hated Gatenmaru too?" the hanyou drawled, tucking his hands into his sleeves and padding away across the sand. "Imagine that. Small world."

"Gatenmaru? That prison caretaker? No," Miroku shook his head, trotting to catch up. "I had no quarrel with him."

"Then who the hell are you talking about?"

"My enemy is a fiend by the name of Naraku." He watched closely as Inuyasha halted mid-stride, an unreadable expression frozen on his pale face. "He's the one who sent you to this prison, isn't he?"

"I was sent here by a prick called Kagewaki," the hanyou ground out through clenched teeth. "Naraku was just some damned encroacher who used to hang around Kikyo, making eyes at her when he thought no one was looking. He didn't have any ties to the government."

"Naraku called a curse down upon my father as punishment for allowing you through the barrier at Nishi-no," Miroku countered. "He had ties with the government, all right, or he wouldn't have been the one to reprimand one of its officers. Who was this 'Kikyo' you spoke of?"

The hanyou's expression was hooded, his eyes staring sightlessly toward the sea. "My fiancée."

"I see," the dark-haired monk pronounced, well aware that this was not a subject he should pursue. "I had assumed all these years that the same creature who condemned my father also condemned the hanyou who committed the original crime. Then again, I also assumed that you were dead, as every report of the incident indicated. Perhaps I was wrong about Naraku's involvement with your end."

"Or perhaps I've just been a blind fool," Inuyasha replied curtly, his heart welling up with a bitterness so strong that it nearly overwhelmed him. How could he not have seen this? How could he not have made some connection between Naraku and the hellish life he'd been forced into? The man had been on the scene at his arrest, he realized, had been smirking all that day as though privy to some secret. _How could he have not seen?_

"Inuyasha..." Miroku began, extending one tentative hand toward the hanyou's shoulder as though wanting to comfort him somehow.

"The tide will be turning soon," came the former prisoner's emotionless response. "We don't want to be left behind, do we?"

He didn't so much as glance back, treading off in the direction of the waiting ship, his gait steady and his posture straight. Miroku started after him a moment later, mixed feelings warring within him. He was sorry to have caused so much inner turmoil to one who had only recently been liberated from a hell he could not imagine.

Then again, in so doing, he knew he had found himself an ally. In the end, that was all that really mattered.

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A/N: This chapter would have been posted a week ago, but my little sister (who acts as a sort of beta for me, since I have none) pointed out something small to me about the original ending. I had to rewrite. So I posted "Paradise Lost" instead, and you all had to suffer! Bwahaha! If you read it, that is. If you didn't read it, well, that's probably for the best. Some things are better left alone. Anyway, I'm much happier with this version of chapter eight, so that's all that really matters, right?

And for the record, yes, when I very first began plotting this fic, I was fully prepared to have Inuyasha escape from prison _Monte Cristo_-style, which would have entailed killing off Totosai. But when the Sesshomaru subplot emerged in my inchoate scheming, our favorite demon blacksmith's life was spared as well. So sorry to disappoint anyone clamoring for his death. I've found that my life is far easier when I do what the Muses tell me.

Thanks to everyone who's still with me! You're wonderful!


	9. Treasure Sword

**Disclaimer: _InuYasha_ is the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi, and _The Count of Monte Cristo_ is a product of the brilliant mind of Alexandre Dumas. I own rights to neither and am writing this story for my own twisted amusement, not for profit.**

* * *

_Rising Sun_

Chapter Nine—Treasure Sword

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Wide brown eyes stared into amber, unflinching in a penetrating gaze. Inuyasha fought the sudden urge to blink as he stared right back, even as his own eyes started to itch and involuntarily water. An unspoken battle of wills raged between him and his opponent, and he had absolutely no intention of losing. He would not... he refused to... 

He blinked.

The little girl in front of him straightened fractionally, proud of her accomplishment, and a slight smile creased the corners of her dainty mouth. And yet, she didn't speak, but merely continued to stare as though the game had started anew.

Inuyasha, for one, had grown tired of it. "Is there something you want?" he inquired a bit roughly. He sat sprawled against the side of the ship, feeling the waves surge beneath him in a long-forgotten rhythm and wanting nothing more for the time being than to be left alone to his brooding. The child crouching before him obviously had other plans, though she seemed hesitant enough to state her business.

Instead, she caught her lower lip between her teeth, chewing on it as she mulled over her words. Her brows knit together and her brown eyes gleamed both hopeful and apprehensive.

"Well?" he prompted, impatience lacing his voice.

"Rin wants..." she started, but then paused as her frown deepened. She studied him for a moment longer, almost as though speculating whether she should continue or not. When she finally spoke again, her voice had dropped down to a whisper.

"Rin would like to..." Once again her courage failed, and her sentence dwindled into silence.

"Spit it out, kid," Inuyasha said flatly, never one to tolerate cowardice for long. His command jarred her from her indecision, and she immediately stiffened, her face taking on an expression far too serious for her tender young age.

"Rin would like to touch your ears."

The declaration took him by surprise, but he wasn't about to let her know as much. A scowl immediately blossomed on his face. "Does Rin let strange children touch _her_ ears?" he retorted brusquely.

Her response was a confused tilt of the head as her deep eyes continued to bore into his very soul.

"Rin would like to touch _your_ ears," she said a moment later, emphasizing the pronoun as if to clarify her request. "_Your_ ears are special, not like Rin's."

"Inuyasha doesn't like his ears touched," the hanyou answered, echoing her third person speech with thinly veiled irritation. Again she seemed confused, her elfin face tipping further to the side as she scrutinized him like a bug under a magnifying glass. He shifted under her unblinking gaze and averted his eyes before their staring contest could start up again.

A small, wistful sigh escaped her lips, and he ventured a glance in her direction, only to discover a very despondent expression on her face.

"Lord Sesshomaru lets Rin play with his hair," she pronounced in something very close to a grumble.

"Then why doesn't Rin go bother _him_?" Half of him desperately wanted to snigger at her revelation, while the other half seemed ready to keel over in astonishment. He still had trouble believing that Sesshomaru kept the scrawny child nearby, let alone that he allowed her to touch any part of him. Rin, though, apparently had no clue that she'd divulged anything out of the ordinary.

"He's busy," she answered with a resigned shrug. Her attention dropped down to the worn ship deck, one small finger tracing the pattern of the wood veins. "Rin _would_ like to touch your ears," she casually mentioned once more, just in case he hadn't gotten the message yet.

Inuyasha's expression fell, his mouth setting into a flat refusal. The words on the tip of his tongue arrested themselves, however, as her eyes darted up to steal a brief glimpse of his reaction. That one small look held such fragile hope, such tentative longing...

_Damn, she was good._

A very put-upon sigh wrested itself from his throat as he at last inclined his head in her direction. "Go on," he growled. "Get it out of your system."

Her face broke into a grin then, a muted squeal escaping her lips as she lunged forward and grasped an ear in each hand, rubbing the soft, furry skin between thumb and forefinger. Inuyasha closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, silently reminding himself that he'd endured tortures far worse than this, and all too recently. Actually, the sensation was a bit foreign to him—no one ever wanted to touch his ears; most people in the past had just pretended that the animalistic feature didn't exist, that it was beneath their notice. Even Kikyo never...

A cheerful giggle interrupted his morose train of thought, and he opened his eyes just in time to see the little girl pull away and beam brightly at him. "Thank you!" she chirped.

Inuyasha averted his gaze with a very gruff, "Keh."

"Rin would hug you," the child continued innocently, "but Lord Sesshomaru told her not to. He didn't say Rin couldn't touch your ears, though."

"Sesshomaru told you not to hug me?" he repeated, silently ruing that he had yet another item for which he was indebted to his half-brother.

"Yes," Rin said with a stalwart nod. Then, as more of an afterthought, she inquired, "Lord Inuyasha, what is 'the mange'?"

He couldn't stop the short, bitter laugh that escaped his lips. _So much for indebtedness_, he thought. "You'll have to ask Sesshomaru about that one," he gestured toward the tall youkai's figure across the deck. "He's had a lot more experience with it than I have."

She eyed him suspiciously but did not challenge his statement. Instead, her attention shifted back to the top of his head, speculation and wonder still warring on her features. She reached her small fingers forward, brushing them against his left ear once again, giggling when it flicked away from her touch. "Rin likes your ears, Lord Inuyasha," she confided, her hand retreating. She stood and primly straightened out her orange-and-yellow-checkered yukata. "Do you like your ears, Lord Inuyasha?" she added with a note of curiosity.

The answer to that one was obvious.

"No."

Still, the little girl seemed disappointed by his pronouncement. "Why not?"

He couldn't exactly explain to a child that his ears had marked him from birth as a hanyou, had served as a constant, physical reminder to himself and everyone else that he was neither human nor demon, that he was part of both but belonged to the worlds of neither. Every other abnormal feature—the claws, the fangs, the strange coloring—could be easily overlooked, as there were many others who bore such traits. His ears, though, set him apart, and he knew that no amount of explaining could make Rin understand that.

"I just don't." The answer was more than inadequate, but she seemed to accept it nonetheless, shrugging and turning to skip away. She paused before leaving, though, just long enough to ask one more question.

"Can Rin pet your ears again, some other time?"

"Does Rin ever take 'no' for an answer?" came his sarcastic response. The child merely flashed him a winsome smile and trotted off to find Jaken or whoever else was supposed to be watching her at the moment. Inuyasha's eyes briefly followed her before flicking back to where his half-brother stood, across the ship's deck.

Sesshomaru was watching him with a guarded expression.

The hanyou, feeling justified in his immaturity, made a wry, distorted face, causing the stately youkai to shift his attention away in sheer disgust. A satisfied chuckle bubbled up in Inuyasha's chest, and he leaned back against the side of the ship, eyes closed, his body soaking up the feel of the sun and the drowsy movement of the ocean waves beneath the vessel.

**………**

"What news?"

"We've received word from the shipping company. It seems the crew of the missing supply ship—most of them—got stranded on a deserted beach more than two weeks ago."

"Most of them?"

"A handful of sailors stayed on board. They... they swore allegiance to Lord Sesshomaru and remained with him."

"It begins, then."

"Sir?"

"The division we have feared for so long. Many imperialists still live across this land, biding their time for just such an opportunity as this. Word will spread like wildfire from province to province, and they will flock to him. Have we no clue as to where he is headed?"

"None."

"Then we must prepare ourselves. Lord Sesshomaru is, no doubt, amassing an army. We must do the same. We must call upon those who fought in the Revolution, demon and human alike, and summon them to defend their country and their homes against the tyranny that threatens to destroy them."

"You believe it will come to war, Lord Kagewaki?"

"...Yes. Only this time, we will show no mercy to Lord Sesshomaru or his followers. This time we will annihilate them from the face of the earth, that they may never again threaten the sovereignty of the Republic. It is our only option."

**………**

"Land ho! Land ho-o-o-o!"

Such a cry probably should have emanated from a sailor's mouth, but it was coming from Totosai's instead. The shriveled old demon was swinging halfway up the ship's mast, his mouth flapping in excitement as he gesticulated toward the horizon with overzealous glee.

Granted, the original call had already been made several minutes earlier, but no one seemed very keen on breaking up the ancient fire-breather's enthusiasm.

"Land ho-o-o-o-o!"

"Would someone please shut that old fart up?" Inuyasha demanded as he surfaced from below deck. His order went unheeded, of course, but he hadn't really expected anyone to comply anyway. Instead, he merely shoved his hands up his sleeves and ambled over to the small group clustered near the ship's prow.

"You're just in time," Miroku greeted him. "We're coming upon our destination."

"I'll believe it when I see it," the hanyou snorted, skepticism thick on his voice. "If you followed Totosai's directions, you're probably leagues off course. He couldn't navigate his way out of a wet paper bag."

"I heard that!" the fire youkai's indignant voice sounded.

"Totosai only provided the name of the island," Miroku answered, pretending not to have noticed any interruption. "The captain and crew have done all of the navigation."

Inuyasha's response was an inarticulate grunt as he shifted his attention toward the island in question. Some of the morning's mist had not yet burned off, creating a hazy atmosphere and obscuring the dark rocks ahead. He squinted, trying to discern the island's shape.

"Lord Sesshomaru," Rin's hopeful voice piped up from nearby, "will there be flowers there?"

"Not bloody likely," Inuyasha surprised them all by declaring before his half-brother had the chance to respond. He scowled deeply, his gaze never leaving the gloomy, veiled silhouette of land. "That's Takeshima. The most you'll find there is some sparse grass and a few scrubby bushes. There's no freshwater source to keep anything else alive."

By now, his listeners' attention had shifted away from the fast-approaching landmass, fixing on him instead. "So why exactly are we going there, anyway?" he finished, his gaze flicking over them all suspiciously.

"Have you been there before?" Miroku inquired in response, voicing their collective curiosity.

The hanyou frowned. "Nope. The first ship I ever sailed on ran a cargo route through these waters, though. I've passed by that island more times than I can count."

"So not many, eh?" Totosai remarked with a good-natured cackle, lightly thumping Inuyasha on the back of the head as he joined the group at the ship's railing.

"Whatever, old man."

"Now, now," the demon blacksmith continued in a placating tone of voice, "there's no shame in being ignorant..."

"I ain't ignorant, you decrepit old windbag! And you're hardly one to talk!"

"Ignorance and senility are two very different things!" Totosai huffed indignantly. "You need to learn to respect your elders, boy!"

"When I find any deserving respect, I will! Now what the hell are we going to Takeshima for? It's nothing but a worthless pile of rocks!"

"Worthless?" Sesshomaru's quiet voice cut through the hazy morning air. All eyes turned toward him, watching as his sharp gaze shifted from the island to Inuyasha, then back again. "That's fitting."

"What's fitting?" the half-demon demanded flatly, despite instinctively knowing that he was asking for an insult.

Sesshomaru did not reply, though. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on the island ahead, the faintest ghost of a smile quirking one corner of his mouth.

**………**

Takeshima was much like Inuyasha predicted: black volcanic rocks sporadically foliated with scraggly, sun-bleached grasses. Desolation rode upon the sharp winds that whipped across the land, tearing at the rocks and pulling at the small band of travelers who trekked up the dark shores. The overwhelming sense of emptiness was only enhanced by an utter lack of animal life. Even the ubiquitous gulls seemed to steer clear of this barren place, choosing to frequent the more verdant islands of the sea instead.

The lull of ocean waves crashing against the rocky shore was shattered by an unholy shriek, which was immediately followed by an indignant squawk. Rin had broken free of the group, running among the tall grass even as a frantic Jaken scrambled after her. The others held onto their path as though nothing were out of the ordinary. After all, nothing really was.

"Oi, Sesshomaru!"

Inuyasha pushed his way toward where the tall youkai walked, earning himself a flat—if slightly inquisitive—glare from his half-brother. Up ahead, Totosai babbled incoherently, leading them all like a demented foreign tour guide, rattling off explanations that no one was listening to.

"So what's the story with the brat? I mean," he continued as Sesshomaru's eyes narrowed fractionally, "Miroku already told me where she came from, but I can't for the life of me figure out why you've decided to keep her. After all, everyone knows how much you despise humans."

Sesshomaru's amber gaze wandered over to the little girl, who was turning circles in the sand as the winds danced around her. "You wouldn't understand such a thing," he stated dismissively.

"Try me."

He didn't really expect an answer. The inuyoukai had always had a reputation for being taciturn, and it wasn't as though the two of them had any brotherly bond that would suddenly cause Sesshomaru to open up. Still, Inuyasha had to admit he was curious about the matter. Rin's presence with his brother was an enigma to him.

Besides, it was fun trying to irritate the stoic demon.

Sesshomaru, though, surprised him by elaborating. "I gave her life," he said, his subdued tones piercing through the howl of the wind. "As such, the course her life takes, for good or for evil, rests on my shoulders. She became my responsibility the moment Tenseiga pulled her from the Netherworld."

"Does that mean Seikai is your responsibility too?" Miroku spoke up from nearby, a mischievous smile playing about his lips. He had obviously been eavesdropping on the conversation. "After all, you did restore him to life as well."

The inuyoukai shot him a smoldering glare, his face set in a rigid mask. "That monk is marked for death, should he prove unworthy of the life bestowed upon him. This Sesshomaru will see to it personally."

Inuyasha snorted, disbelieving his brother's arrogance. "Who the hell died and made you a god?"

In return, Sesshomaru quirked an eyebrow and looked down his regal nose at the hanyou. "No one's death was necessary, Inuyasha," came his mild response, whereupon the former emperor picked up his pace, leaving behind two very stunned listeners.

Inuyasha's mouth flapped open and shut a few times, much like a fish out of water, as the other members of their group brushed past his stationary form. "Talk about delusional," he finally managed.

The monk next to him could only shrug. "With a sword like Tenseiga, who can blame him for letting such power go to his head?" He would have spoken further, but a triumphant, slightly senile holler interrupted his words. Exchanging glances, he and Inuyasha hurried to catch up to the rest of the company.

"Isn't it beautiful?" they heard Totosai demand from within the cluster of bodies up ahead. He sounded almost as though he were about to burst into tears. "Never have you seen anything like it, I'd wager! So perfectly crafted and well-preserved, even after all these years..."

Both Inuyasha and Miroku eagerly pushed their way through the small throng to discover everyone staring at... a hole in the ground. Totosai was practically dancing with glee, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he prattled on and on. The sailors of their onshore expedition wore expressions of confusion as they peered into the dark, gaping fissure, while Sesshomaru stared at the demon blacksmith with an odd combination of boredom and impatience.

"What the hell are we looking at?" Inuyasha interrupted the old fire youkai's rambling speech.

Totosai gestured toward the hole. "Only one of the most magnificent rock formations on this earth!" he answered with a sage, almost reverent voice. "Just look at the way the igneous twists around the edge there, as though carved by the hands of a master! The years haven't worn it down mu—ouch!"

The hanyou had cuffed him on the back of the head, effectively stopping his discourse. "What's so significant about a hole in the ground?" he inquired, ignoring the glare Totosai shot in his direction.

The fire youkai rubbed his injured pate. "A couple millennia ago I had a smithy here, back when the island was first being formed and the volcanic bursts were frequent. Some of the most beautiful lava flows I've ever seen were on this island... but then, I suppose you're too much of a simpleton to appreciate such things." Inuyasha raised his fist in a voiceless threat, so the old man hurried on to say, "When your father commissioned me to make a certain sword, he also asked for it to be crafted in an obscure location. So of course we came here, to Takeshima."

"Tetsusaiga lies within this cave, then?" Sesshomaru inquired. "Why exactly are we standing out here?"

"Nature's beauties are obviously wasted on you people," Totosai rolled his eyes. A heavy, despondent sigh wheezed through his crumpled lips. "Anyway, we're standing out here because only one of us is able to go down there to retrieve the sword."

All eyes turned toward Inuyasha, and he had the sneaking suspicion that he had been left out of the loop somewhere. He already knew that they had come here for the Tetsusaiga but had assumed that his own involvement with its recovery was merely peripheral. After all, Totosai had traded the sword's location for their freedom, hadn't he? So the sword itself had nothing to do with him.

And yet, the rest of the small party stared at him as though they expected him to joyfully leap down into the dark, unknown depths of the cavern at his feet and bring back the dubious treasure.

"Keh. Sesshomaru's the one who wants it so bad," he said scornfully. "Let _him_ go down and get it."

"According to Totosai," his half-brother answered in frigid tones, "this Sesshomaru cannot possess the Tetsusaiga. As such, I have settled for possessing its owner. You've already sworn fealty to me, Inuyasha. So go fetch your sword."

Inuyasha scowled. The truth of the matter was that he didn't _want_ to go into that hole. Just looking at it brought back all the years of underground digging, that crippling sense of claustrophobia that had nagged the back of his mind, the barren darkness so thick that it weighed down upon him... A wave of nausea rolled over him, as though he had just been consigned to the demon prison all over again.

But Sesshomaru was watching him closely, and he was surrounded by strangers who were expectantly waiting... Inuyasha had never been one to display his weaknesses. Squashing down his sudden uneasiness, he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, then hopped blindly through the opening.

The ground he landed on was rough and dust-encumbered, something in the range of a ten-foot drop. He looked around himself, eyes adjusting all too quickly to the dimness, his ears picking up the ragged stir of wind scraping its way through the bleak cavern.

"It's about twenty paces in!" Totosai called from above, and Inuyasha craned his neck to view several curious faces straining to see into the deep shadows. He felt a pang of envy within his heart, wishing at that moment to trade places with any one of them.

That was not an option at present, though, so he saw no reason to brood on it. Instead, he stepped outside the pillar of feeble sunlight, his enhanced eyesight amplifying the dimness beyond. The walls of the cavern, he could see, were porous and dry as a bone, hewn in coiling, asymmetrical patterns. The floor was slightly more worn, though its jagged texture scraped at his feet as he walked forward.

The cavern became darker with every step he took, and he desperately wished for the comfort of the tiny lantern back in his prison cell. He hated the darkness, he realized, hated it with every fiber of his being, as though it were his mortal enemy. It was clawing at him, trying to overpower him...

"What's taking you so long?" The fire demon's indignant question shattered the silence of the cave, jarring Inuyasha from his self-inflicted torment.

"Keep your shirt on, old man!" he shouted back. Stalking forward, he fixed his eye on a hunched silhouette at the back of the cavern. Other dark shapes crouched nearby—rocks, perhaps—but he focused on this particular one, catching sight of a dull glint of metal along its surface.

He groped almost blindly in the near-blackness, his fingers brushing against what felt like tattered leather, undoubtedly the sword's hilt. As his grip closed around it, a foreign, electric sensation ran up the length of his arm. At first, the sword seemed glued to its resting-place, heavy as a ton of lead when he tried to pick it up. Then, abruptly, it broke free of whatever had bound it. Inuyasha stumbled backward, landing with a hard, painful "thud" on the uneven ground. Cursing with every vulgar word in his vocabulary, he scrambled to his feet again, feeling a bruise forming on his posterior.

He was still gripping the sword, he realized with an odd sense of deja vu. It was feather-light in his hand.

"Get the damn sword already!" Totosai hollered, never patient when having to wait for others.

"I've got it, you damn senile idiot!" Inuyasha shouted back, tramping toward the shaft of light that marked his exit. "And if you ask me," he added as he stepped into the pale, scattered rays, "it's a rusted piece of garbage!" He brandished the weapon ruefully, showing them its battered blade. Sure enough, the sword looked as though it had seen better days.

"Hold your blasphemous tongue, you insolent runt!" Totosai roared with indignation, flecks of fire escaping his mouth alongside his spittle.

In one powerful bound, Inuyasha leapt from the cavern, glaring at the ancient youkai. "See for yourself," he said, thrusting the handle of the sword at him. "The hilt is tattered, the blade is chipped... unless the _real_ Tetsusaiga is hidden somewhere else, your so-called masterpiece is a complete sham!"

Totosai screwed up his mouth in a stubborn set Inuyasha knew all too well, but what surprised the hanyou more was the hurt expression that entered the old demon's eyes. "Fine," the blacksmith said in a tight voice. "Obviously I've made a terrible mistake. I'll just break my precious Tetsusaiga up for scrap metal!"

He snatched the sword from the hanyou's grip, and immediately found Sesshomaru's iron claws around his arm. Unsurprisingly, Totosai yelped in fear.

"Did you not tell this Sesshomaru that no demon could touch the Tetsusaiga?" the imperial youkai inquired coldly.

"Ehehe..." Totosai forced a chuckle, holding himself perfectly still even as his face crinkled into an ingratiating smile. The look in the dog demon's eyes was murderous. "Actually, what I said was that no demon can _wield_ it," he reminded him, feigning lightheartedness. "There's a difference between touching and wielding. Some provision had to be made for the sword's upkeep—since I'm Tetsusaiga's maker, I can handle the sword for maintenance, but I couldn't take it into battle..."

Sesshomaru released his hold on the fire youkai, who drew a relieved breath of air. "Shall I test your words?" the inuyoukai inquired, holding out one hand as if expecting Totosai to hand him the blade.

"I wouldn't if I were you," the old blacksmith shrugged, "but I'm not." He wrapped his calloused fingers around the rusty blade, proffering the hilt toward the former emperor. All eyes were fixed on the two demons, apprehension rippling through the air. Sesshomaru kept his own gaze locked with Totosai's even as he reached forward to take the sword. When his clawed hand came within a hair's breadth of the handle, a current of energy crackled from the sword, a barrier rejecting his touch.

He drew back his singed appendage with a satisfied grunt. "Take the sword, Inuyasha," he commanded, never breaking eye contact with Tetsusaiga's creator. "It's your birthright, after all. With any luck, there's more to both of you than meets the eye."

The imperial youkai turned his back on them then, fluidly moving back toward the dark beaches, toward the small boats that waited there. A few sailors scrambled after him while the others, Miroku and Totosai included, remained behind, waiting to see the hanyou's reaction.

"Worthless sword," Inuyasha grumbled, snatching it back from Totosai's hands and stalking off in the opposite direction as his brother.

"Funny," Totosai observed with a dour expression. "That's the same thing Sesshomaru said when I presented him with Tenseiga."

"Perhaps the two brothers are more alike than they care to admit," Miroku replied.

**………**

The tide was turning, signaling that it was time for them to depart. Inuyasha bounded across the black-sand beach, wondering why there were two crates sitting on the shore and why Miroku was gesticulating so angrily to one of the soldiers. Then he came within hearing range of their argument.

"... You can't just leave us stranded on this miserable rock!"

"Those are Lord Sesshomaru's orders," the soldier staunchly replied, "and we've left you more than enough supplies until we return."

"_If_ you return," the monk retorted. He looked past the soldier, fixing an angry glare on Sesshomaru, who was already ensconced within the small boat that would carry him back to his commandeered ship. "Am I being punished?" Miroku demanded. "Why am I to be left behind? Why not Totosai?"

"His services are needed elsewhere," came the bored response. "And you have a habit of attracting unwanted attention in crowded areas. We shall return, monk. You have my word."

"I don't want your word! I want passage back to the ship!"

"What the hell is going on?" Inuyasha demanded, wide-eyed and panicked as he slid to a halt next to the monk. The last soldier had already clambered into the boat, and a couple of sailors began to row shipward, leaving the two figures alone on the barren shores of Takeshima.

"Sesshomaru's leaving us here," Miroku announced bitterly, confirming his worst fears. "He says you need training with Tetsusaiga, that this is the perfect opportunity..."

"Sesshomaru, you _bastard_!" the hanyou exploded in fury. "You can't leave us here!" He crouched down, building up his strength for a powerful spring toward the boat. No sooner had he left the ground, though, than the former emperor flicked a whip of green acid directly into his chest, knocking him into a backward skid across the sand. "Bastard," he growled again, his skin seared and burning.

Totosai, meanwhile, sat in the boat, grinning like an idiot and waving farewell with a joyful frenzy. "Goodbye!" his voice floated across the increasing distance to them. "Train well! Tetsusaiga's sheath is in the cave, Inuyasha! You should retrieve it as well! See you soon! Have fun! We'll miss you!"

"Traitor," the hanyou muttered as he picked himself up off the ground. Brushing the dark sand from his clothing, he turned a bitter frown in Miroku's direction.

"You know," the monk said caustically, "if you hadn't gone off to the opposite side of the island to sulk, we could have fought our way onto that boat."

"Shut up, Miroku."

"Still, I suppose it could be worse. I mean, we could be miles underground in a stinking demon's prison..."

"Shut up, Miroku," Inuyasha growled again. The monk was right, of course. They were trapped, but it could be much worse. At least this situation had an end in sight. "How long before they come back, anyway?" he demanded grudgingly.

"Three weeks. And Sesshomaru said that if you haven't mastered the Tetsusaiga by then, he'll leave us here for another three. So get training."

Without another word, the monk stalked off toward the setting sun, jamming his staff into the sand with each step. Inuyasha looked down at the naked sword hanging from his belt. The _useless_, naked sword...

They were going to be here for a very long time.

* * *

**A/N: Y****es, Takeshima is the name of an actual island located in the Sea of Japan. As stated in this chapter, it has no freshwater source, so it's pretty much uninhabitable. However, it's also been at the center of a land dispute between Japan and Korea for centuries, because the surrounding area is really great for fishing. I just picked it for its isolated location. All details mentioned about the appearance, vegetation, etc. are details that I made up, and are more than likely false. That, my friends, is the beauty of fiction.**

**-Tish**

**Addendum A/N: Special thanks to Hawk for telling me that I originally had this chapter labeled as "Chapter Ten" rather than "Chapter Nine." Oops.**


	10. Outcast

**Disclaimer: _InuYasha_ is the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi, and _The Count of Monte Cristo_ is a product of the brilliant mind of Alexandre Dumas. I own rights to neither and am writing this story for my own twisted amusement, not for profit.**

* * *

_Rising Sun_

Chapter Ten—Outcast

* * *

"Well, well, well. Look who's come home." The man spoke in the loud whisper of one who wished his conversation to be overheard, and his friend replied in kind. 

"Ah, the headman's daughter, fresh from another excursion. You know, the way she's dressed, she could almost pass herself off as just another village wench."

"Yeah, if it weren't for that huge boomerang strapped to her back. Sango's more man than the both of us combined!"

The two speakers erupted in ill-suppressed snorts and muted guffaws. "It's only a matter of time before she settles down with a wife of her own," one offered when he had sufficiently recovered his breath.

"Think she'll be surprised when she tries to start a family? Her father probably never told her that she has the wrong equipment for the job!" They erupted into laughter once again, this time making no attempt to veil their scorn.

The object of this ridicule pretended that she couldn't hear their snide conversation, instead continuing forward as though nothing were amiss. Outwardly she wore an expression of serene indifference, her steps confident and poised and her gaze never once shifting in their direction. Deep down, though, she writhed under their scrutiny. She felt the telltale signs of tears prickling at the back of her eyes, but she would sooner die than break down crying over such petty insults.

After all, she had known both speakers since childhood. It wasn't as though this sort of torment was a new experience.

She ambled on through the village, greeting those she passed with a smile as false as the ones they offered. Every time she returned she felt more and more out of place, like a stranger in her own land. The affected politeness that existed between her and her kin was a thin facade for deep-seeded disapproval and misunderstanding. Sometimes it seemed as though her very existence was an affront to them.

Whispered conversations and sidelong glances tickled her senses, and she could practically hear the villagers' collective thoughts. Women were supposed to tend to the hearth and home; men were supposed to go out into the world to make a living. Hundreds of years of cultural tradition dictated as much and should not have been irreligiously cast aside by one headstrong girl.

In a half-hearted attempt to understand her, some of her kin tried making excuses for her: she had no mother to teach her proper feminine behavior, her father was too indulgent to her whims, she had no talent for homemaking, and so on. Others merely denounced her as a perversion to their time-honored way of life, one whose influence should be withheld from the children of the village, lest she lead them astray.

None of them dared deny her prowess at her profession, though. None was so foolhardy as that.

In the end, it came down to one truth: Sango was an anomaly, a woman trained to do a man's work. For whatever reason, her fellow villagers could not accept this. Sango herself had trouble with it at times. After all, is wasn't as though she had actually _chosen_ this path in life...

"Sango! Sango!"

The excited cries shook her from her melancholy thoughts. Her eyes immediately focused on the bright-eyed boy who was barreling toward her at breakneck speed, a two-tailed kitten hot on his heels. A soft smile touched her features as he slid to a halt in front of her, an expression of hero-worship on his face.

"Sango! You've come back at last! What did you kill this time?"

She stooped to pick up the cat that was mewing and pawing at her skirt. Cradling it to her chest with one hand, she ruffled the boy's hair with the other and continued walking toward the center of the village. "Nothing big," she answered with a faint smile, the weight upon her heart having lifted somewhat. "Just a nest of rat demons. Kirara should have come with me—she'd have enjoyed a tasty treat." She scratched the creature's head, receiving an adoring purr in response. "Has anything happened while I was away, Kohaku?"

The boy shrugged, falling into step beside her. "Not really."

"Have you been training every day?" Sango inquired with a sidelong glance, her dark eyes holding a suppressed amusement.

Kohaku colored slightly. "Almost every day," he mumbled. "I'll never be as good as you, though. Father says you're the best slayer in the village."

His words caused her to blanch, though he failed to notice her reaction.

_"You're the best slayer in the village, Sango. You bring honor to us all with your skill and efficiency. Never be ashamed of that."_

She had heard those words often enough. They should have instilled a sense of pride within her, but instead their effect was quite the opposite. Most of the time she wished she were a complete klutz when it came to demon slaying. Even had she been just mediocre at it, there would have been less of a silent rift between her and her fellow villagers. The rising generation of slayers wouldn't resent her for being assigned the lion's share of work—and consequently receiving the lion's share of pay—and the older, more established ones wouldn't assume she was trying to outdo them all.

Had she not shown talent for the job, her father never would have encouraged her as he did. She could have been a normal girl, probably married by now, with a couple of fat babies to raise and a husband to keep happy. She often pictured that imaginary alter-ego cooking and housekeeping and never having to worry about fighting off the multitude of lesser demons that terrorized the surrounding countryside. It was the ideal life, really, something every girl wanted.

Granted, she would have been miserable living it, but that was hardly the point.

"Sango," Kohaku blurted, jarring her from her thoughts, "one of the other slayers brought back strange rumors from his journeys. Have you... have you heard anything?"

She was quiet for a moment, uncertain whether to answer him or not. "You mean about the emperor?" she clarified.

Kohaku's voice dropped to a whisper. "Has he really escaped?"

Sango truly wanted to give him the answer he wanted: a calm reassurance that the demon emperor was still sequestered on a faraway island, that there was nothing to be worried about. The words, however, would not come. Instead, she merely replied, "It's only a rumor, Kohaku."

"If he has escaped, what will it mean for us—for the slayers, I mean? Will we have to go to war?"

"I don't know. Father helped defeat Lord Sesshomaru's armies all those years ago, but I don't know what he would do if the situation presented itself again. Have you tried asking him?" she added innocently.

Her brother's eyes grew wide and he gulped; a negative shake of his head was the only answer she received. Her question, though, was enough to end that vein of conversation. Kohaku held their father in a reverence verging on terror and dreaded any sort of interaction with the man.

Sango and her father, on the other hand, had a wonderful relationship. She could do no wrong in his eyes, forever his perfect little girl. Granted, it helped that as a woman she would not be expected to step into his shoes after he died, to become the leader of their village. That responsibility would one day fall to Kohaku, and he needed to be strong when that time came. "Coddling him will make him weak," her father reasoned in defense of his sternness toward his only son. "He'll thank me in the long run for pushing him so hard in his youth."

Sango wasn't so sure.

They reached the front of their small home, a humble structure hardly discernable from the others of the village, and she paused only long enough to divest herself of her sandals and her ungainly weapon. Then, she proceeded inward, Kirara purring in her arms and Kohaku treading at her heels.

Her father stood waiting for her, as usual having anticipated her arrival. She often wondered how he always managed to guess the instant of her return but somehow he did, and she could always count on him to welcome her home the moment she crossed the threshold.

"Sango," he greeted, unable to fully suppress the proud smile that quirked his lips even as he leaned forward in a formal bow.

"Father," she responded, mimicking his actions.

"I take it your journey was a success?"

"Yes. The nest was eradicated, and the village sends their thanks." She presented him with a small, coin-filled pouch. At the solemn gesture, her father's face at last cracked into a broad grin.

"It is good to have you home," he stated, reaching forward to close her grip around the money, indicating that it was hers to keep. He wrapped one arm around her shoulder before she could protest, pulling her into a half-embrace as he led her further into the room. "Come now, you must tell us all about it. We've all missed you dearly."

A stranger in her own land—yes, that's what she felt like every time she returned to her village. But every time she returned to her family, she felt right at home.

**………**

"Kohaku has improved." Sango made the comment lightly, her eyes never straying from her brother's figure on the training grounds.

Her father shrugged in his position next to her, his voice neutral. "He still has a lot of room to grow. He cut his hand just last week because of a careless mistake. Slayers can't afford for such things to happen."

"He'll learn," she averred firmly.

Much to her surprise, her father agreed. "Yes, certainly he will. He's already more proficient with the kusarigama than most of the men in the village. It's not an easy weapon to master." He must have sensed her incredulous stare, for he turned to her the next moment, amusement twinkling in his deep-set eyes. "You think I see only the flaws in my own son, Sango?" he inquired.

She averted her gaze back to the training grounds. "N-no. But too often his flaws are the only things you point out. Kohaku craves your approval, Father, but he frequently meets only with your rebukes."

He must have been in a mellow mood, for he merely nodded, taking her comment at face value rather than getting ruffled. "Perhaps I should try to be less critical of him," he conceded. "My expectations are not impossibly high, but though he has not yet reached them, there is still much about him I can praise. I am blessed to have two such fine children."

Sango could hardly believe her ears. Her father was never one to drop idle compliments or give false words of approval. He was by no means ungenerous, but his praise was something that always had to be earned. Today he seemed more than willing to give it freely.

She would have made some response, but her attention became diverted by some movement across the way. Several villagers were hoisting the main gate, allowing a stately carriage to pass through. Sango's breath caught in her throat as she gazed upon its splendor, and upon the number of servants that accompanied it. This traveler was wealthy indeed.

Her father had seen the visitor as well, and his brows drew together in an unmistakable frown. "Stay here," he bid his daughter, turning away from the morning's exercises and striding off toward the carriage. She watched him wave aside many of the villagers who were gathering around the interloping entourage. He spoke briefly with the driver before gesturing onward, toward the center of the village.

"Who is it?" Kohaku asked at her elbow, and she jumped at the sound of his voice next to her. His brown eyes were fixed on the carriage as it moved forward.

Sango glanced around, finding that all of the other trainees had abandoned their exercises as well. "I don't know," she admitted, apprehension pooling in her stomach. Few people on the outside knew the location of their village, after all. "Father told me to stay here."

The carriage turned out of sight, and Sango knew for certain that her father had directed the visitor to their home. Next to her, Kohaku grinned impishly. "He didn't tell me to stay here," the boy smirked, bolting forward the next moment.

"Kohaku!" she gasped, lurching after him in a vain attempt at restraint. He flitted beyond her reach, and for a moment, Sango was torn between obeying her father and following her brother. Father greatly disapproved of eavesdropping, but Kohaku didn't seem to care about breaking this particular rule. And the chances of them actually getting caught were slim...

The next instant, she started after him, her own pace relaxed so as not to call the attention of the other villagers. After all, there could be no real harm in listening.

**………**

The voices within the house were arguing, their strident tones only slightly muffled by the wooden walls. Sango rounded the back corner of the structure to find Kohaku squatting in the dirt with Kirara burrowed at his feet, both intently listening. The boy motioned her to silence the moment he saw her, an unnecessary precaution.

"It's someone from Kyoto," he whispered as she crouched down next to him and stroked the kitten's head.

"What does he want?" she demanded in an under-breath, eyes intent on her brother but ears listening to pick up the strain of conversation. Kohaku merely gestured her silence once more.

"This village is sovereign unto itself," their father's firm tones floated down to her. "We owe no allegiances to any other power. You can't come here and make such demands of us."

"Your country needs you," the visitor responded, his velvety voice belying a thinly veiled harshness. "Have you not heard anything I have said? The Imperialists are razing entire villages across the land in a rampage toward the capital. You fought against them years ago..."

"And we were granted our sovereignty from the new Republic for that," Sango heard her father interrupt. "This village has always dwelt apart from the rest of the country. We pay tribute to no one, and we will not be forced into combat."

"If you are not with us, you are against us."

"That's not so. We will willingly defend this area from any demon armies. But you cannot come here and ask me to send my best warriors to Kyoto, hundreds of miles away. You would leave us defenseless."

"I assure you, that is not my intention. I merely ask for your support."

"I have offered all I am able to give you—we will defend this region from the Imperialists. To be blunt, many of the villagers will balk even at that much."

The visitor's voice dropped to a low timbre, impatience thick on his tongue. "And why is that? You slayers had no trouble fighting for the Republic twenty years ago. What has changed?"

His answer was given reluctantly, but without mincing of words. "Promises were made at that time, and they have not been kept."

"Such as?"

"The revolutionaries swore to give the governing power to the commoners, and to abolish slavery from the land. Yet local elections are a sham, and the slave trade is just as strong, if not stronger, than it was in former times. In truth, the Republic is no more humane than the old Empire. The poor are still downtrodden and oppressed, and the rich are elevated to positions of unquestionable and easily abused power. It has nothing to do with a humble village such as this one."

"Even the humblest villages are part of the great Republic." The stranger's voice had taken on a definite edge.

"As I said, the taijiya have always dwelt apart from others," came her father's prompt answer. "Even in the days of the empire, we governed ourselves. When the time for revolution came, we participated not for our own needs, but for a cause that time has proven false. Many of our kin lost their lives in that conflict, and some of my people are still bitter that their sacrifice was in vain."

"I see. So they would prefer Lord Sesshomaru slaughtering thousands of innocents in his destructive campaign for power? You may feel that the Republic has failed in many respects, and perhaps it has, but in a situation such as this, one must sometimes choose the lesser of two evils."

"I ally myself with no evil," Sango heard her father state adamantly, and she could picture the resolute expression on his face. "This village is too far removed from surrounding settlements for anyone to take more than a cursory interest in it. This war does not affect us. I am very sorry to disappoint you, but such it is. Now I'm sure you have more important places to be before the day is through..."

It was an obvious dismissal, and the guest apparently proffered no argument. Sango and Kohaku listened as he was escorted from the room, then both scrambled to the edge of the building hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious man. Peeking around the corner, Sango's eyes rested on long, wavy hair and dark, expensive silks. The visitor's clothing alone must have cost more than she had made on her last four jobs combined, she realized, and demon slayers were by no means inadequately compensated for their services. No wonder her father's expression appeared so very stern.

"Perhaps I shall visit you again," the stranger said, bowing to their father as a sign of respect. "Who knows, but that your mind may be changed with time?"

"Perhaps it will," her father responded dubiously. "I wish you good luck in your travels, Lord Kagewaki."

The lord acknowledged the well-wishing with a curt nod, the corners of his mouth tilting up in forced politeness. Then, his slanted eyes shifted to the corner of the house, finding Sango's hiding place with a keenness that startled her.

She ducked back in shock, her heart quickening with an inexplicable terror. That single glance had seemed to pierce her very soul, as though the stranger had sensed her presence all along. As she tried to regain her wits, Kohaku regarded her with confusion, his head tilted to one side.

In the background, they both heard the stranger get into his carriage and depart.

"Sango," her brother whispered with concern, "are you all right?"

She swallowed her irrational fear and nodded, hoping to quell his misgivings, wanting even more to quell her own. Comfort was not so easily found.

"Sango! Kohaku!"

Both instinctively jumped at their father's stentorian tones; he stepped around the corner and gazed down at them with obvious disapproval, arms crossed over his chest in a rigid stance. The siblings exchanged apprehensive looks, expecting a severe and lengthy lecture. Much to their surprise, though, their father released his anger in a heavy sigh and crouched down next to them.

"I suppose if you heard everything, it saves me the trouble of relating my conversation," he reasoned.

"You will not fight against Lord Sesshomaru?" Sango inquired hesitantly, hardly believing that she and Kohaku were not to be censured.

"Demons that take the forms of humans are the most dangerous of all," her father pronounced, and she recognized it as one of his favorite sayings. "But Lord Sesshomaru was never truly the problem. The old government itself was corrupt, just as the new one is. I will be true to my word, though. We will defend this region from any Imperialist attacks."

"If they're headed toward Kyoto, they probably won't pass by this way," Sango pointed out.

Her father patted her head fondly, a lopsided grin appearing on his face. "Precisely," he stated. "We have nothing to fear."

**………**

"Inuyasha, do you plan on swinging that thing around all day? You've been at it since dawn."

The hanyou brought his sword down a couple more times before responding, obviously concentrating on his exertions. "You're the one that said my stupid brother wouldn't let us off this island until I mastered this."

Miroku leaned back in the grass, propping himself up on his elbows. "So what have you learned so far?"

"That the Tetsusaiga is nothing but a rusty piece of metal. I had better practice swords back in my prison cell."

"So give it a rest already. I'm getting tired just by watching you."

Inuyasha shot the bored monk a scowl just in time to see him stifle a yawn. "Do you want to be stuck here for the rest of your life?" he inquired, but Miroku only vaguely shrugged. "Fine," he snorted. "I have to go get the stupid sheath from that hole in the ground anyway. Shouldn't you be meditating or something?"

He received no answer, nor had he expected one. After all, he and Miroku weren't exactly on fantastic terms at the moment. The two of them had spent a very uncomfortable night feeding a fragile fire, only semi-sheltered by an outcropping of rocks near the beach. Miroku had suggested descending into the cave, but Inuyasha adamantly refused, preferring instead to sleep beneath a canopy of stars. The temperature, though, had dropped drastically during the night, hence the reason they had been forced to tend to the fire rather than slumber.

Really, they were lucky to be alive, but of course neither saw it that way.

The hanyou retrieved a small lantern from their supplies before heading across the island; he had no desire to fumble around in the darkness of the cavern a second time. As he approached his destination, he noted how the black entrance of Totosai's abandoned forge gaped at him, appearing sinister even in the bright morning sunshine. Gingerly, he lit the lamp and dropped down into the bleakness below.

The cave appeared far different in the light of the weak flame. Contours writhed on the walls, jutting out in high relief against the invading light, and shadows twisted and snaked away from him as he moved. He made his way into the yawning depths, wanting to complete his errand as quickly as he could. Nearing the back, he noted Totosai's ancient anvil, from which he had undoubtedly retrieved Tetsusaiga the day before, standing before him, a symbol of abandonment beneath its heavy layer of dust. Inuyasha turned to the side and stopped dead in his tracks.

Tetsusaiga's sheath wasn't the only item left in the cave.

He stood gaping, the tiny flame of his lamp more than enough to illuminate several hunched shapes tucked back against one porous wall. On his first near-blind jaunt into the cavern's depths, he had assumed that those shapes were simply large rocks, part of the geological structure. He had been dead wrong, though, and the feeble light now clearly revealed his mistake.

Those shapes were actually coffers—heavy, well-made coffers, at that.

Atop one lay the sword's sheath, its smooth finish gleaming beneath a thick coat of grime. He picked it up, sliding Tetsusaiga snugly into place before mindlessly tucking the reunited pair into his belt. The worthless sword was the least of his worries at the moment. He was far more interested in what those half-dozen chests contained.

"With my luck, it's probably just some moldy old blankets Totosai left behind centuries ago," he snorted aloud. His golden eyes, however, caught sight of the kanji on the corner of one lid. Even with as little reading as he had done over the course of his life, he could still recognize his own name when he saw it.

_Inuyasha._ It was scorched into the dry wood, a dark brand proclaiming ownership. He ran one clawed finger over the mark, tracing away the dirt with open wonder. Who could have possibly known he would one day find his way into this deserted, desiccated cave? The answer, quite obviously, was Totosai. Then again, the batty old demon could hardly have foreseen the string of events that had brought him to this point in time.

Fate had an odd sense of humor, the hanyou decided then and there.

With a growing anticipation, he flung up the lid of the first chest, peering into its depths. The flickering lamplight exposed the contents, and Inuyasha sucked in a sharp breath of air as his eyes widened in surprise. Tetsusaiga was certainly worthless, but judging by this one chest alone, it had been buried—as the kings of old—among great riches.

His golden eyes shifted from the open coffer before him to the five others that sat innocuously nearby, and he idly wondered if they contained the same untold wealth of this first one.

_Inheritance, indeed_, he thought, setting down the lamp to root through the various items.

**………**

"Forgive an old man's curiosity, Lord Sesshomaru," Totosai spoke up hesitantly as the sea swelled beneath their vessel, "but where exactly are we going?"

"Into the north country," came the disinterested response. "We should reach our destination within a couple of weeks."

"Uh..." the demon blacksmith floundered for a moment, but then plunged ahead, trusting his senility to keep him safe from any punishment. "Won't that make us late getting back to Takeshima?"

"We're not going back."

"Not going back?" His bug-eyed surprise melted away into indignation. "You mean you're just abandoning those two back on that island? They'll starve to death!"

"Calm yourself, Totosai," Sesshomaru responded, never raising his voice or shifting his eyes from the distant, hazy horizon. "The monk has already seen to their escape."

"He has? How do you know?"

The demon lord didn't dignify his question with a response, and a moment later, Totosai wondered why he had even bothered asking. After all, Sesshomaru seemed to know everything these days.

**………**

"Inuyasha! Are you down there?" Miroku crouched at the edge of the gaping hole, squinting into the darkness below. He thought he saw a flicker of light, but he couldn't be sure with the brightness of the morning sun streaming around him. "Hey!"

"Yeah, yeah," came a grumbled response, a stale echo bouncing through the cavern. "What do you want?"

"I have something to show you." The monk took a bite out of the dried fig in his hand and waited for the hanyou to appear. "Well? Are you coming out or not?" When Inuyasha finally stepped into the scattered pillar of light directly below, disgruntled expression and all, Miroku could not suppress the incredulous laugh that bubbled up in his chest.

"What are you wearing?" he asked wryly.

The hanyou's attention shifted down to his bright red clothing. "Cool, isn't it?" he said with the enthusiasm of a child who had just been given a new toy. Plucking at the haori with one clawed hand, he explained, "It's made from the fur of a fire-rat, practically indestructible. I found it down here, along with some other stuff. And it fits me perfectly." He shifted his stance, extending his arms and legs in turn as though to prove his point.

"It suits you at that," Miroku conceded, settling back on his haunches and polishing off his fig. He produced another from within his sleeve even as Inuyasha bounded out from the cave and landed next to him with a glare.

"Hey, monk," the hanyou scowled. "Those provisions have to last us. Quit eating them like there's an endless supply."

In response, Miroku stuffed the second fig into his mouth, chewing it with relish and pasting a cheesy smile to his face. As he procured yet another from his voluminous sleeve, Inuyasha snatched it away and shoved him back onto the ground.

"I said quit eating those! Do you want us to starve later on?"

Rather than bicker, Miroku picked himself up and primly brushed off his robes. "You were a sailor once, right?" he inquired, completely changing the subject of conversation.

The hanyou cocked his head to one side, frowning but curious. "I'd just been promoted to ship's captain when I was thrown into prison."

"Come on, then." The monk wandered off in a northwesterly direction, not even bothering to make sure he was being followed.

Inuyasha's gaze shifted from Miroku's back to the fruit in his own hand. With a careless shrug, he popped the morsel into his mouth and ambled after the retreating monk. Takeshima was a tiny island; it took them only a few minutes to reach their destination, a ridge of rock that fell off into the sea below. Miroku stood at the very edge and pointed downward.

Inuyasha's eyes inquisitively followed the monk's gesture, meeting with an unexpected sight. There, moored against the island's edge, was a mid-sized boat, one of the ship's lifeboats, to be precise. A small, unstepped mast lay lengthwise against the keel, tightly wrapped in a heavy sail and bordered on both sides by the oars. The boat rocked gently in the water, as though it has always been there.

"Wh-what... where..." the hanyou sputtered in confusion.

"I took it yesterday," Miroku supplied helpfully. "Had a bear of a time getting it here, too. Do you think you'd be able to sail it to the main island?"

Inuyasha's gaze snapped over to the monk. "You stole a lifeboat? How the hell did you manage that?"

He shrugged in response. "You'd be surprised what you can get away with beneath people's very noses. Or what _I_ can get away with, at any rate. But you didn't answer my—" His words broke off in a yelp as the hanyou suddenly snatched the front of his robes and jerked him forward.

"You knew we were going to be marooned here?" Inuyasha growled.

"Only a suspicion," said Miroku, raising his hands defensively. "Jaken kept shooting shifty glances at me, and I could hardly help but notice when the sailors started bringing supplies ashore. I thought I'd play it safe."

"So all that arguing on the shore last night...?"

"Just an act," Miroku nodded. "I couldn't have your brother suspecting anything..." He stumbled back as Inuyasha released his grip.

"And why exactly did you wait until now to tell me about this?"

At this particular query, the monk remained silent, seemingly intent on straightening his robes. Inuyasha growled again, a low, rumbling sound. "You were planning on leaving me here, weren't you?" he accused.

"What? No, of course not!" Miroku avowed, his voice taking on a liquid quality. "I don't know the first thing about sailing! I told you, it was all I could do to maneuver that boat to this side of the island."

"So you had to decide whether to brave it on your own or pull me into the venture. Just admit it—I can tell that you're lying."

Backing up another step, Miroku shrugged and flatly answered, "All right, then. I wasn't sure whether to leave you here or not. Happy now?"

"I should take the boat and leave _you_ here," Inuyasha snorted. Before the monk could protest, he added, "But I won't. Bastard." He shoved Miroku aside, stalking back in the direction of Totosai's forge.

The monk regained his balance quickly enough. "Great! So how soon can we leave?"

**………**

A steady wind coursed across the ocean, filling the tiny sail and propelling the boat forward through the rolling water. Inuyasha noted the clear skies with a mixture of relief and apprehension. The weather was fair enough, but the coming night would be arctic. Both he and Miroku would have to bundle up tightly to keep warm—preferably on opposite sides of the vessel. Speaking of the monk...

Inuyasha turned a speculative glare toward the back of the boat, momentarily wondering how they had ended up so cramped in a craft that was meant to seat six or seven men comfortably. Provisions had been an essential addition to their voyage but hadn't taken up too much room. The large coffer resting in the middle of the boat was another story all together.

"I can't believe you left the rest of that treasure behind," Miroku complained.

"I can't believe you insisted on bringing this much with us," Inuyasha retorted, mirroring his indignant tone of voice. "Or that I agreed," he added in a grumble. He had made the mistake of letting Miroku see the wealth that lay within Totosai's forge. In truth, he had merely wanted the monk's help in rummaging for anything that could come in handy on their voyage, namely clothes or blankets for the cold night. Miroku, though, laid eyes on the cache and immediately set to work convincing Inuyasha that _all_ of it was indispensable.

The ensuing negotiations had nearly driven the hanyou mad. Miroku, it seemed, was a master of persuasion and double-speak. They were going to arrive on their native soil completely destitute and friendless, he had pointed out. At the very least they could trade the fine items for food and lodgings when that time came. Inuyasha had haggled him down from all six chests to just one, only realizing afterwards that, as all of them belonged to _him_, he could have left them behind entirely.

"What are you planning on doing when we get to shore?" Miroku inquired out of the blue. He was lounging on the bottom of the boat, seemingly intent on the cat's cradle he had strung between his fingers with an absurdly long strand of pearls.

Several ideas leapt to Inuyasha's mind at once, many of which involved maiming Naraku somehow. One thought eclipsed all others with its importance, however. "I have to find Kikyo," he quietly answered. "I have to find out what happened to her."

"I think I'll come with you."

The hanyou bristled. "Who invited you? As far as I'm concerned, we're going our separate ways the minute we hit dry land!"

Miroku, though, seemed unfazed, continuing to thread the pearls in and out of his fingers in a mesmerizing pattern. "Our separate ways lie down the same path, though," the monk commented. "You wish to find Kikyo, and I wish to discover more about Naraku. Ten years ago, they were in the same place, weren't they? Besides, when Sesshomaru finally tracks us down, it's probably for the best that we're still together. Wouldn't want to anger him with extra work, after all."

"Keh. Who gives a damn about Sesshomaru?" The statement sounded genuine enough, but Inuyasha and Miroku both recognized it as worthless posturing. Whatever else happened to them in the future, one thing was certain: they would meet up with the imperial dog demon again. If they were lucky, he'd be too busy orchestrating a revolution and wouldn't bother with punishing them severely. If they were unlucky... well, everyone had to die someday.

And until then, at least they were free to pursue their own interests. Revenge held high precedence on Inuyasha's list at the moment. He would find Kikyo, then he would set about making miserable those who had destroyed his life—ten years had not weakened his conviction that Hiten had somehow been involved in his arrest, nor had he forgotten the face of that human magistrate, Kagewaki. And of course, he'd have to find some special means of retaliation against Naraku. On that front, Miroku might actually prove to be useful…

He glanced back toward the monk once more and made a final decision. "All right. You can tag along with me."

"I didn't realize your permission was necessary," Miroku dryly responded, "but thanks anyway."

* * *

**A/N: ****As always, thanks for reading!**

**-Tish**


	11. Dead Ends

**Disclaimer: _InuYasha_ is the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi, and _The Count of Monte Cristo_ is a product of the brilliant mind of Alexandre Dumas. I own rights to neither and am writing this story for my own twisted amusement, not for profit.**

* * *

_  
Rising Sun_

Chapter Eleven — Dead Ends

* * *

"Another job?"

Sango tried to suppress the groan in her voice, but her father could read her expression all too well. "I've just received word," he answered, acknowledging the unwilling gleam in his daughter's eyes with a disapproving frown of his own. "There's a demon terrorizing a village to the north, and they've asked us to perform an extermination before it causes any more damage."

She bit her lower lip, hesitating as she chose her next words carefully. It wasn't that she hated her job, because she didn't. However, it seemed like she was always the first person her father asked to fulfill this sort of task, and Sango felt like some of the other slayers of the village should share in the duty. How to phrase that tactfully, though…

In the end, she simply chose to be direct. "I only returned yesterday, Father. Can't you assign one of the others for this extermination?"

"Well, I _could_…" her father replied, tracing thumb and forefinger around his mouth and down his chin in a pensive gesture. He fingered his beard for a moment as though actually considering the possibility, then firmly pronounced, "…but I prefer to send the best we have."

Sango's shoulders slumped. For a brief moment, she had believed he might actually pass her by for this job. She mentally chided herself for kindling such false hopes; her father never had been one to change his mind once his course of action was set.

He must have seen her disappointment, for his frown deepened. "We're slayers, Sango," he stated firmly, misinterpreting her reaction. "It's what we do. We leave behind our friends and family and protect the weak from creatures they cannot themselves fight. It is a sacrifice, indeed, but one which we must endure for the greater good. You don't have to go if you don't want to," he added reluctantly. "I suppose I can send another…"

"I'll go, Father," Sango spoke up, an apology in her voice. "Of course I'll go."

Her answer pleased him. A smile creased his mouth as he laid one hand on her shoulder in a gesture of fatherly pride. "I knew I could count on you, my Sango. If you like, you can take Kirara with you—a fire-cat could come in handy on this trip, if only to reduce your travel time."

Sango's eyes strayed across the yard, to where Kohaku sat dangling a string in front of the kitten. Kirara batted at the elusive quarry, her two tails flicking and her pink eyes burning bright. Every so often, Kohaku would let her catch hold of the string, only to snatch it away a moment later. The fire-cat was growing increasingly frustrated, causing Kohaku's good-natured laughter to escalate as well.

"No," Sango slowly shook her head, her gaze fixed on her brother and the family pet. "I've noticed before that a lot of villages don't appreciate me bringing along one demon when I'm there to exterminate another. I don't mind going alone, really."

Her father seemed dubious of her reasoning but made no protest. Sango wasn't so sure about her decision either, truth be told. Taking Kirara along would certainly lighten her own burden, but as she watched Kohaku play with the tiny creature, her resolve to travel alone strengthened. Her little brother was quiet by nature, often keeping himself withdrawn from the rest of the village. Sometimes, it seemed as though Kirara was his only real friend. With this in mind, she couldn't bring herself to separate the fire-cat from Kohaku, even if only for a few days.

"How soon should I leave?" she inquired of her father.

"As soon as you can get ready," came his answer, and she could see the pride gleaming in his eyes. It bolstered her up, making her recall just why she lived the life of a demon slayer.

In truth, she craved her father's approval as much—or perhaps even more—than Kohaku did.

**………**

An indignant cry echoed across the crowded village street, followed by the unmistakable sound of flesh meeting flesh in an angry slap.

"Sesshomaru really wasn't joking when he said you attracted unwanted attention in crowds," Inuyasha drawled as he watched a furious young woman stalk away from them. Next to him, Miroku stood with an innocent expression on his face, a fiery red handprint emblazoned on one cheek. Several on-lookers gawked at the two, clearly trying to discern the cause of the commotion.

"It was an honest mistake," the monk commented defensively.

"An honest mistake that you groped her ass?" scoffed the hanyou. "It looked pretty intentional from where I was standing."

Miroku sighed morosely, staring down at his offending hand with a tragic—yet somehow insincere—expression etched into his features. "Sometimes, it's almost as though it has a mind of its own," he said, clenching his fist in a rueful gesture.

Inuyasha's response was a callous thump on the back of the monk's head, followed by a terse command to keep walking.

As they continued down the road, the holy man lapsed into one of his favorite grumbles of late. "I still don't understand why we couldn't have bought a wagon... a horse, a donkey, anything, really. I mean, you have plenty of money from hawking all that treasure, and you can't even bring yourself to share…"

"Don't think I don't know about the stash of coins you pinched from me," his traveling companion interrupted. "And I know for a fact you still have that strand of pearls hidden somewhere, too. If you want a horse, buy it yourself."

Miroku sniffed self-righteously but didn't bother denying the accusations. "I suppose our feet work just as well as any other means of transportation," he acceded a moment later, turning his attention away. Inuyasha just rolled his eyes. In the week they'd spent in one another's company, he'd come to recognize the monk's predominant traits: Miroku was dishonest, manipulative, lecherous, and cheap, essentially everything a holy man should _not_ be. Still, the hanyou was forced to admit, he could be useful as well.

They had discovered upon their arrival a country embroiled in chaos, fueled primarily by rumors of Lord Sesshomaru's escape. Soldiers had been dispatched throughout the land in an attempt to keep the peace among the citizens, both to protect the terrified villagers who feared the dog demon's return and to squelch the zealous imperialists who clamored for his coming. In only a few short weeks, the nation had been polarized into these two halves, and the government was doing everything in its power to keep matters under control.

One of the side effects had come in the form of travel restrictions. The republic had reverted to a sort of martial law, and all travelers were now required to carry some sort of official documentation for their journey, documentation that Inuyasha was sorely lacking. For this reason alone Miroku's presence was a blessing. Miroku had been able to smooth-talk the pair out of more than one sticky situation, relying heavily on the universal assumption that all monks held allegiance to the present government. A few vague hand gestures, a couple of subtly-dropped names, and he had any interfering soldiers believing that he and Inuyasha were on a secret assignment from the highest echelons of power.

Of course, Inuyasha would never admit the monk's usefulness. Miroku didn't need his confidence inflated any more than it already was.

"It's getting late," the monk suddenly spoke up, trying for all the world to sound as though he were making an idle comment. "Shouldn't we be looking for a place to stop for the night?"

"We still have hours of daylight left," Inuyasha replied with an incredulous expression.

Miroku frowned. "But who knows if we'll come to another village today? Some of us aren't comfortable sleeping in the forest, Inuyasha."

"Yeah, and some of us have no intention of stepping foot in a brothel, Miroku," the hanyou replied, noting just such an establishment up the road and correctly guessing his companion's intentions. "So keep walking."

His only response was an unhappy grunt.

**………**

Totosai kept his head down, straining to hear the conversation between Sesshomaru and the latest in a string of demon visitors. The stranger was obviously a chieftain of some sort; the ancient swordsmith had been able to make out a few words and phrases that supported that conclusion, though the majority of their speech was incoherent from this distance. He thought he heard the words "village" and "attack," and he perked up his ears.

"Lord Totosai?" a tiny voice piped up next to him, causing him to yelp in surprise.

"Eh? Oh! Rin, don't sneak up on an old man like that," he grumbled, clutching his heart for show. "And you really don't have to call me 'Lord,'" he added as an afterthought.

The child wrinkled her nose in pure skepticism. "Lord Jaken says Rin has to show respect to everyone older than her. And you're a hundred, hundred, hundred times older than Rin…"

"What's your question, runt?" the ancient youkai grunted.

"Who is Lord Sesshomaru talking to?" she inquired, pointing at the pair of demons. "Ah-Un is tired of waiting."

Totosai sent a cursory glance toward the two-headed dragon that had joined their numbers soon after they came ashore; Rin had since adopted the creature as her personal pet and was often making pleas on its behalf. "Ah-Un's going to have to learn some patience," he stated, turning his attention back to the conversing demons. "I don't know who Sesshomaru's visitor is—"

"_Lord_ Sesshomaru," Rin interrupted with a reproving glare.

"I don't know who _Lord_ Sesshomaru's visitor is," Totosai corrected himself, wondering if the child had always been so bossy, "but they'll no doubt take their time talking. From the looks of it, they have some sort of alliance already."

The little girl shifted her own attention to the objects of their discussion, an observant expression gracing her innocent features. "Lord Jaken says that demons everywhere will flock to Lord Sesshomaru, because they want him to be their leader," she stated, a touch of hero-worship in her voice. Rin's own devotion to the dog demon seemed to grow by the hour.

In response to her remark, though, the metal-smith snorted. "Let's just hope that Lord Sesshomaru knows better than to make allies with every lowlife that shows up."

Truth be told, Totosai had his doubts on that front.

**………**

"It certainly isn't much to look at, is it?"

Inuyasha shot a crusty glare toward the monk, deigning not to respond to his remark. Miroku took this as a sign of encouragement and continued, "I mean, it's cramped and dirty and crowded." He sniffed with distaste. "And it reeks of fish guts and lye. I would think that with your sensitive nose you'd be reeling by now..."

"Shut up, Miroku." The command was a common one, falling from Inuyasha's mouth no less than a dozen times a day, but this time it seemed infused with a bit more venom.

The monk held up his hands defensively. "I meant no insult, I assure you. It was just my own observations."

"Yeah? Well, keep them to yourself next time." He didn't want to admit how right Miroku was. The buildings they passed, though painfully familiar, seemed a gross caricature of his memories, squat and grimy and squashed together. In ten years, his hometown had not changed much, and yet, everything about it felt foreign.

People glanced up apprehensively as they passed, and Inuyasha caught the occasional whisper of fear. It seemed those who resided here were wary of any strangers, which was odd considering how much mercantile traffic this port had to participate in. Every glimpse of the docks afforded a view of ships and sails, testifying that the sea was still very much the lifeblood of this community. As such, the town's occupants should have been accustomed to strangers. In former times, they had welcomed them with open arms.

And yet, he could sense the tension in the air, could smell the escalation of fear in those who set eyes upon him. Part of him reasoned that the rumors of his half-brother could be the source of this reaction, but something told him it ran much deeper than that.

Either way, it didn't matter. He was here for one thing, and one thing alone.

"The shrine is this way," Inuyasha commented as he turned up a well-worn side road; his pace unconsciously quickened. How many times in bygone years had he trod this path? His life was coming full circle, it seemed; ten years ago, he had been dragged from this place, leaving behind his future and the love of his life. At long last, he was finally returning…

"Do you truly believe she'll still be there?" Miroku inquired out of the blue, skepticism thick on his voice.

Inuyasha bristled. "She's a shrine maiden. Where else would she be?"

"A lot can happen in ten years, Inuyasha," the monk warned. "If Kikyo was willing to leave the shrine to marry you, who's to say she didn't find another—" He wisely broke off his speech, conscious of the suddenly feral gleam in the hanyou's eyes. "You're probably right," he placated a moment later. "The shrine is the most obvious place to look for her. Just… don't get your hopes too high. A lot might have happened."

He wanted to slug Miroku, he really did. The monk possessed an eerie ability to voice the very doubts that plagued the back of Inuyasha's mind. Certainly a lot could happen in ten years. Kikyo could have moved to another area of the country, she could have contracted some illness and died, she could have... Unbidden, Naraku's image flew to his mind, and he recalled how the loathsome man used to study the miko as though sizing up a coveted object. Just as quickly, Inuyasha banished the thought. Kikyo had sworn… She would never…

In a sudden spike of frustration, he ripped his rusty blade from its sheath and swiped at a couple of bushes on the side of the road. Tetsusaiga did no damage, of course. "Worthless crap-sword," Inuyasha muttered, feeling Miroku's surprised gaze on his back. Shoving the useless weapon back into place, he continued up the road as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

The shrine was just ahead, pristine as ever among the tall trees. The hanyou caught a glimpse of its rooftop through the leafy branches, and he felt his heart skip a beat, suddenly clenching with anticipation. He inhaled the air, hoping to catch a familiar scent on the breeze…

"Demon, halt!"

The harsh command jarred him back to the present, and he found his pathway blocked by a young priestess, her bow and arrow leveled at his chest. Both her face and scent were entirely foreign.

Miroku took this as his cue and stepped forward, placating hands raised. "Dear lady," he began in his smoothest tone of voice, "we have come on a peaceful errand."

Much to his surprise, the young woman shifted her aim toward him, a hostile expression manifesting itself in her narrowed eyes. "We have already given our monthly tribute," she spat. "We owe you nothing more."

"Tribute?" the monk repeated, exchanging a confused glance with Inuyasha. "What are you talking about?"

The priestess faltered for a moment. "Y-you have not come to demand a further tribute?" she ventured.

"We know nothing of any tribute," Miroku assured her, eyeing the sharp arrowhead currently pointed at his heart. Much to his disappointment, his words did not cause her to relax her guard.

"This is but a humble shrine," she stated firmly. "What does the magistrate demand from us now?"

"Magistrate? I think you must have us confused with someone else. We've merely come to inquire…"

"She's not here," Inuyasha interrupted, his voice quiet and his golden eyes hooded.

Miroku started at the hanyou's unexpected remark. "Are you certain?" he queried, hazarding a glance toward his companion.

"Her scent is completely gone," came the despondent confirmation. "She hasn't been here for some time." Without another word, Inuyasha turned and started back down the path toward the town.

"Wait!" Miroku called after him, only to be ignored. He shot a frown toward the young priestess, who had finally lowered her weapon and now watched the retreating hanyou with open confusion etched onto her face. "Do you know anything of a priestess called Kikyo?" he demanded, hoping against hope to gain some information.

Her eyes jerked over in his direction, and she mutely shook her head.

"What about the name Naraku? Do you know anything of him?" Again he received a negative response. "Perhaps someone else would recognize…"

"I've been at this shrine seven years," she countered, a faint note of remorse in her voice, "the longest of anyone here. I don't know either of those people. You—" Words failed her momentarily, but Miroku waited patiently for her to continue, desiring to glean at least _something_ useful from their conversation. "You really have not come on an errand from the magistrate?" she inquired at last, penitently.

His hopeful expression dropped. "No," he pronounced in disappointment. One final avenue of inquiry occurred to him, though, and he decided he had nothing to lose in pursuing it. "Would that magistrate happen to be Lord Kagewaki?"

The priestess tilted her head to one side and regarded him with bewildered eyes. "Lord Kagewaki went to Kyoto years ago," she volunteered, obviously puzzled at his lack of knowledge. "The current magistrate, Lord Manten, has a stranglehold on this district, and he's slowly bleeding it dry."

"I see," said Miroku, mentally ruing their bad luck. "Well, I had best catch up to my friend. Sorry to have intruded upon you today." He bowed and turned away, not bothering to wait for a response.

Apparently their search was going to be more difficult than anticipated.

**………**

Sango yawned deeply as she trudged through the mountain forest. Her shoulders ached from the weight of Hiraikotsu, and she absentmindedly kneaded the muscles beneath her weapon's thick strap. She really should have taken Kirara with her on this job, she thought retrospectively, continuing to pick her way down the road. Then she could have ridden the fire-cat home rather than walking.

She had been gone almost a week already. The village requesting her services was situated farther off than her father had indicated, and the demon terrorizing the area had proven to be much smaller and weaker than expected. With a roll of her eyes, Sango recalled how easily she had defeated the puny salamander—it had barely enough youki to spit out a puff of fire and could do little else. And while that was something of a menace to the thatched roofs of the village huts, it was hardly life-threatening.

Basically, the assignment had been a waste of her time.

_Am I becoming arrogant?_ The query crossed her mind as she continued her trek up into the mountains where her own village resided. The next moment, she batted the idea away. That salamander youkai had been so weak that any one of the villagers could have disposed of it, just as they would dispose of a spider or a rat, or any other vermin. Exterminators were trained to combat the more vicious demons, not to come running every time someone spotted a lizard with an extra set of legs.

Well, at least the village had paid her. It was small consolation, all things considered, but it was something. Sango picked up her pace, eager to be home once again and sincerely hoping that no important jobs awaited her.

The faint smell of smoke amid the scents of the forest first alerted her that she was nearing the slayers' village; it was a reminder that there was civilization in this remote section of woods, and her mind immediately drifted to the many home fires that were kept burning. Were it not for the canopy of trees, she would probably be able to see the wispy plumes rising into the morning air. She took in a deep breath, allowing the familiar odor to fill her lungs.

It seemed a little strong, too much sulfur to it.

The back of her mind only vaguely registered this thought as she unconsciously increased her pace. As she continued her hike upward, the scent grew stronger, slowly intensifying until she realized that it was almost overpowering, that her lungs were starting to burn with every breath. She fumbled for her slayer's mask, her stomach clenched in escalating anxiety, and slipped it over her nose and mouth even as she broke into a run.

One part of her mind kept chanting that everything was fine, while another part vehemently cursed the restrictive skirt that prevented her from sprinting outright. As she rounded the final bend and the high village walls came into sight, she halted, a faint sense of relief washing over her. A dozen or so thin columns of smoke curled their way up into the morning mist, a picture of rustic tranquility, nothing seeming out of the ordinary.

Sango sighed through the metal mesh of her mask, her rapidly beating heart slowly calming. All worked up over nothing, she reflected. Everything was as it should be, as she had left it… Just as she was about to remove the mask all together, though, something caught her eye. The village gate was at an incline, as though it had been left ajar.

That never happened.

Stepping forward tentatively, she realized how very quiet her surroundings were. A few insects buzzed amid the trees, but she could hear no normal, domestic sounds coming from the typically industrious community. Instead, a surreal stillness hung in the air. As she approached the gate, every muscle within her body again clenched with apprehension.

Even so, nothing could have prepared her for what lay beyond those high wooden walls.

Hiraikotsu fell to the ground with a loud clatter, immediately followed by Sango's travel sack. For a long moment, she stood at the entrance to her village, staring with wide eyes, hardly breathing. Most of the houses had been burned, leaving behind charred piles of smoldering wreckage. The strong sulfuric scent was filtered by her mask, but it still infiltrated her eyes, its pungency causing tears to form. She intentionally fixed her gaze on the burned structures, not wanting to see anything else, not wanting to accept that any of it was real. Even so, she could not fully block out the images in her periphery vision.

The loss of the houses really was nothing. Houses could be restored. The same could not be said of the countless human bodies that covered the ground.

Even as that thought crossed her mind, Sango jarred herself from her stupor and recoiled in horror, stumbling back away from the gate. She fell to the earth, clawing her mask from her face just as the meager contents of her stomach erupted out of her mouth. Kneeling on hands and knees, she retched uncontrollably into the grass, her throat on fire from the combination of sulfur and bile. Long after she had nothing left to vomit up, her body continued to convulse with dry heaves, as though it would expel her stomach itself.

She forced herself to blink, tried to force herself to focus, but every time she started to grasp even a semblance of control, the image of her slaughtered kin flashed into her mind's eye, sending her body back into its shuddering spasms. She didn't even realize she was openly sobbing.

_How…?_

The single word coursed through her mind with swift ferocity. How could something like this happen? The village was by no means defenseless! They were slayers; they were trained for combat almost from infancy! _How could this happen?_

She had seen the answer in that endless moment back at the village gate, though. Interlaced amid the slaughtered, dismembered corpses of the villagers were a multitude of demon carcasses, lesser creatures who were almost as grotesque in death as they were in life. There must have been thousands of them, Sango's traumatized mind concluded. Only a sheer, numberless horde of those creatures could have overpowered the village's defenses.

Her stomach began to heave again, but she was able to suppress it this time, her mind racing in this newfound train of thought. Lesser demons were incapable of carrying out such an attack, she stubbornly reminded herself. They would just as soon tear each another apart as join forces against a mutual foe. How many times had she witnessed two such creatures battling one another? They were too feeble-minded, too territorial to organize themselves like that.

She felt weak, robbed of her very life force, but as she regained control of her mind she also took iron control of her body. Pushing off from the ground, she stood and shakily moved back toward the open gate, back toward the destruction of everything she'd ever known.

This would not defeat her. She refused to allow it. Someone inside those walls could still be living, some of her people may have escaped into the forest; they would need her to be strong, to be calm and in control.

She couldn't muster the stamina to pick up Hiraikotsu or her discarded gripsack, torpidly stepping past them, into the ruined village. At first, she averted her eyes from the carnage, pushing all thoughts to the back of her mind as she trudged forward. Slowly, her gaze drifted downward, and she numbly took in the details of the massacre.

It had happened within the last day, she realized dully, long enough ago for the flies to gather, but not yet long enough for carrion crows to begin clouding up the morning sky. The attack had more than likely commenced during the night, when the majority of the villagers had been sleeping.

Sango tried to remain in her newfound, dispassionate stupor as she sidestepped blobs of demon gore and various severed limbs. Many human bodies were mangled beyond recognition, bloodied and torn, their entrails strung out across the ground. She had seen enough death in her lifetime, had administered it often enough herself, to be able to disassociate those anonymous corpses from the laughing, smiling faces of her neighbors. The real problems were the ones she did recognize.

Women, children, the elderly... none had been spared in the conflict, it seemed. She met the glazed stare of a villager who had been impaled upon a jagged spear. His body lay at a rigid angle, his head twisted up and his mouth contorted in a pained grimace. His dark blood had soaked into the ground, coloring it a deep, ruddy brown.

He had lived next door to Sango all her life.

Tears slipped down her cheeks as she resolutely turned away, but similar sights met her eyes whichever direction she shifted her attention. She didn't want to recognize these people. They were her neighbors, her kin, her family…

_Father… Kohaku…_

She didn't even want to contemplate the possibility that their remains were here amid this carnage. For a brief moment, she considered turning tail and running as far as she could away from the bloody scene. She could deny it ever happened, convince herself that everyone was alive and well, that this was only a nightmare. If she never found her loved ones' bodies, she could believe they were still safe and happy…

As this very thought fluttered desperately across her mind, the eerie silence of the morning was shattered by the caw of a soot-colored crow. Sango whirled, her swift movement frightening the bird from its newfound quarry, a mass of corpses—both demon and human—not ten paces away from her. The bird took to the skies, but she knew there would be others soon enough.

She could easily run away, yes, but that would mean leaving behind her village as carrion for whatever scavengers came across the destruction. In that instant, Sango knew she would stay. Her people deserved a proper burial, for one thing. After she gave them that much... she didn't know what would come next, where she would go, what she would do. Overwhelmed with the task at hand, she could hardly take the time to worry about the future.

Pressing forward, she stumbled and fell to her knees next to a slaughtered oni, only vaguely registering the familiarity of the weapon lodged in its back. She started to pick herself up but froze as she caught sight of a human hand protruding from beneath the great creature—a hand she knew almost as well as she knew her own.

An anguished cry tore itself from her throat as she wrenched the oni away to reveal the body trapped beneath its massive weight. Sango knelt next to the corpse, taking in the lifeless gaze and the odd expression of calm resignation on the man's face.

"Father," she murmured thickly, tears freely streaming down her cheeks. Some morbid compulsion kept her from looking away, her eyes fixed on the bloodied, unmoving form before her, her breath catching raggedly in her throat.

He was dressed in his slayer's gear, and from the looks of his immediate surroundings, he had fought ferociously. Dozens of demon carcasses lay around this spot, and Sango knew from a glance that they had been brought down by his weapon, the double-ended spear he wielded with deadly precision. Its handle had snapped, one splintered end still clutched in his lifeless grip. She pried it loose, casting it aside as she interlaced her warm fingers between his icy ones.

She reached her free hand up to close off his unseeing gaze, her own eyes squeezing shut as if she too were consigned to eternal darkness. "Father, no..." she wept, resting her head on his chest, clinging to his lifeless limb still and feeling as though everything in the universe had gone horribly awry. "No!"

Somewhere in all this bloodshed, she was sure to find Kohaku as well; she didn't want to consider the possibility. She couldn't face it. For the moment, she remained where she was, sobbing brokenly, mourning her father's death above all others.

Sheer exhaustion overtook her in that state, and she fell into a deep slumber, curled up next to his body, her hand still clasped in his own.

* * *

**  
A/N: ****Special thanks to Lavender Valentine for previewing part of this chapter and handing out some much-needed advice (I know, that was forever ago, Lavender, but I still really appreciated it). You may note that I've upped the rating to play it very safe.**

**-Tish**


	12. Revelations

**Disclaimer: _InuYasha_ is the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi, and _The Count of Monte Cristo_ is a product of the brilliant mind of Alexandre Dumas. I own rights to neither and am writing this story for my own twisted amusement, not for profit.**

* * *

_Rising Sun_

Chapter Twelve—Revelations

* * *

The building before him bore the unmistakable wear of abandonment. Inuyasha felt himself slip further into despondency as he stared up at it, sailors and townsfolk skirting around on either side of him, the empty sound of ocean waves ringing in his ears. 

He hadn't anticipated this.

"Hey," he plucked at the sleeve of a passerby, "what happened to—" The man shifted out of his grasp and hurried away, never so much as making eye contact.

Inuyasha snorted, for once in his life unsure of whether he was receiving this treatment because he was a stranger, or because he was a hanyou. Turning his eyes back on the building in question, he allowed his gaze to linger on the sign that still hung—albeit askew—next to the door. In worn, faded characters it proclaimed the name of the business that should have resided there.

"What the hell happened to you, Myoga?" the half-demon murmured, feeling as though everything from his past life had just crumbled out of his grasp, leaving him with nothing more than a handful of dust.

He had come here directly from the shrine, reasoning that if Kikyo had gone anywhere, Myoga would know. The tiny parasite had always been one to stick his proboscis where it didn't belong—both literally and figuratively—and had thus been a fine source of town gossip. Even if he didn't personally keep an eye on Kikyo—and Inuyasha had always just assumed that he would, given his nature—he would have at least known what had become of her.

The hanyou never would have guessed that the old flea had gone out of business. Size notwithstanding, Myoga was a shrewd negotiator and had been more than prosperous at the time of Inuyasha's arrest. The amount of traffic still along the docks and the number of ships in port testified that trade still burgeoned in this port. At first glance, it seemed illogical that Myoga's business could have gone under. Rather, it should have been flourishing, its owner growing fat in his old age.

_Perhaps he retired…?_

The hanyou batted the thought away the moment it entered his mind. Myoga was decades—possibly centuries—away from retirement. He had derived too much pleasure from commanding underlings so much larger than himself, had enjoyed his own power too keenly to give it up in favor of a life of rest and relaxation.

Besides, Inuyasha realized as his attention shifted to other buildings along the waterfront, Myoga's wasn't the only shipping company whose windows were now vacant. From the looks of it, all of the nearby competition had disappeared as well. So who exactly owned all the ships in the harbor?

"Dammit," he swore under his breath, feeling like he was trying to untangle a mountain of threads all knotted together, and getting absolutely nowhere in the process. He had come all this way, only to be met with dead ends on every front.

Briefly he speculated on the possibility of tackling someone and forcing them to give him answers. The pedestrians along the docks skirted around him, leaving a wide berth as though he were a plague-infested pariah, but he could easily close such a distance in a single leap. It was a simple matter of choosing a likely victim… Out of the corner of his eye, though, he caught sight of a couple soldiers coming his way and quickly decided against his rash plan of action. Instead, he walked resolutely forward, nimbly stepping through the doorway of the abandoned building and out of sight.

The last thing he needed right now was an encounter with the law, especially since he didn't have Miroku around to talk him out of any trouble.

Speaking of Miroku… Inuyasha wondered for a moment what had become of the monk. No doubt he had remained behind to ask the anonymous shrine maiden some intensely personal and completely inappropriate questions. He was probably lying in a bloody heap on the dirt pathway.

"Keh," the hanyou snorted, watching from the shadows as the two soldiers passed the building and continued onward. Miroku could take care of himself. No doubt the two of them would meet up again later. And if not… well, that was fine too. Inuyasha was used to doing things by himself, after all.

Inquisitively, he let his eyes travel across his surroundings rather than immediately returning to the waterfront. A thick layer of dust had accumulated on the barren floor, marked with the various footprints of previous intruders—some adult and some obviously children. The furniture and fixtures had been cleared out long ago, whether by Myoga's command or the hands of a thief, he did not know. Either way, the room was empty, wholly abandoned to dilapidation.

He was about to leave when a scent caught his attention, a fresh scent that stood out against the stale, musty air. Its presence was like a red flag to the hanyou, plainly signifying that he was not alone in the building. He did not recognize the smell and found himself wondering what sort of person would be loitering in an abandoned shipping warehouse. Perhaps some homeless creature had taken up residence here, though he could discern no signs of prolonged tenancy. Surely a thief would recognize this place as a waste of his time, but other criminals might consider the desolation to be terribly convenient. Or perhaps someone was, like himself, merely curious to see the inside of an abandoned building.

He followed the odor to the back room, only to find it empty, save a few planks of wood propped against one wall. Sniffing the air again, he briefly pondered the possibility of his nose playing tricks on him after years of breathing nothing but demon stench, only to discover that the scent had intensified; someone was in here, hiding from his view, and the smell was unmistakably demonic.

With growing interest, he padded over to the few weathered planks, inspecting them closely, making sure nothing was cowering behind them. The scent spiked as he came to the last one; he caught sight of a small, furry tail as it twitched slightly.

Snatching up the fluffy appendage, the hanyou was somewhat shocked when the plank itself emitted a loud pop and suddenly transformed into a squirming body.

"Let me go!" it hollered. "Let me go! Let me go! Let me go!"

"Shut up, runt," Inuyasha snarled, holding at eye level what appeared to be a kitsune child. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"Let me go!" the child again demanded, glaring up at him with bright green eyes. "It's going to take me weeks to wash your hanyou filth off of me!"

So much for not hurting him. Inuyasha instinctively rapped the small child on the head with his free hand. "Is that really how you want to talk to me?" he inquired as the kit yelped in protest.

"You said you weren't going to hurt me!"

"Yeah, well I ain't gonna let you insult me, either," he answered unrepentantly. "Now what're you doing in here? And do you know anything about the business that used to be here?"

His captive apparently thought better of sassing back, much to his satisfaction. "It was run under when I was just a child," came the sullen response. "I like to play here sometimes, because no one bothers me." He glared accusingly at Inuyasha, who forbore telling him that he still _was_ a child.

"What do you mean by 'run under'?" the half-demon pressed.

The kit eyed him as though he were daft. "The Thunder Brothers ran all of their competition out of business; they have the only shipping company in town now."

"Thunder Brothers?" Inuyasha repeated, an unpleasant sensation twisting through him. "You mean Hiten and Manten?" He had almost forgotten that Hiten even had a brother, let alone what they used to call themselves.

"Of course I mean them! They own this entire town! Now if you don't let me go, I'll yell for my pa, and he'll tear you to pieces! He's a powerful demon!"

"Where can I find the Thunder Brothers?" Inuyasha pressed, ignoring the child's threats. "I have an old score to settle with—aagh!" His words broke off into a yelp as a wooden snake suddenly erupted from the kit's sleeve, flying into his face. The shock caused his grip to slacken, and his captive fell to the ground, flinging paper charms and yo-yos at him all the way.

Inuyasha deflected most of the projectiles but was bowled over by a large, spinning top. He landed heavily on his back in the far corner of the room.

"Stupid hanyou!" the kitsune crowed from the doorway. "Everyone steers clear of the Thunder Brothers, and you'd be no match for them anyway with that taint of human blood!" Without further ado, he scampered off, leaving a trail of childlike trinkets behind.

Inuyasha picked himself up off the floor, brushing the dust from his haori sleeves and feeling thoroughly disgusted with himself. Kikyo had vanished without a trace, Myoga had been run out of business years ago, and he had just been beaten to the ground by a small child.

The kami hated him, he decided then and there.

**………**

A jumble of sounds drifted to her ears, a cacophony of voices that called her back from the realm of unconsciousness. She mentally tried to bat them away, as though they were flies buzzing around her head, but to no avail. There was an awful stench to the air she was breathing, and she blindly tried to focus her thoughts through the haze of sleep that still blanketed her.

"Hey," one of the voices broke through in perfect clarity, "I think we've got a live one over here!"

_…Live one?_

Memories crashed down on Sango as she jerked her eyes open to see her own fingers still entwined with her dead father's. The next instant, multiple hands grabbed at her shoulders and pulled her away from the corpse, the voices behind her jabbering, barraging her with various questions. She struggled against her supposed assailants with a sudden frenzy to get away, to return to her father's side. Two strangers were hefting him up by the shoulders and legs, carrying him away even as she was pulled in the opposite direction.

"No! Father!" she cried, pushing forward to follow. "Let me go!"

The hands held her fast; for all her struggling, she could not break free. "Shh," someone whispered in her ear sympathetically. "He's gone. There's nothing you can do for him."

The words coursed through her brain like lightening, and she went limp, her sudden deadweight causing her captors to release her. Dropping to her knees, she stared vacantly at the scene before her, eyes unblinking and mind in a stupor. The ruined village was crawling with people, all working to clean up the destruction that abounded. The bodies of her kinsfolk were being carefully laid against one wall, while the demon carcasses were taken to another area. Soldiers made themselves busy digging graves for the villagers, while a band of monks purified the dark auras from the remains of the grotesque attackers.

"Come away." She barely registered the voice next to her, too intent on staring ahead. "Can you walk? Are you injured?"

Sango weakly waved one hand, gesturing for the man to leave her alone. She watched, dazed, as her father's body was placed among the others, arranged for an indiscriminate mass burial. The very sight was surreal, and she found herself wondering how long she had been staring at it, for it seemed like days and mere seconds at the same time. The next thing she knew, the stranger beside her had placed a hand around her shoulders and another behind her knees, sweeping her up into his arms as he carried her away. She did not struggle against him, but simply turned her head and continued to gaze at the rows of corpses, numbness settling thick on her shoulders.

Her vision was cut off as they entered one of the few remaining huts, the darkness seeming to smother her in contrast to the too bright sun of the outside world. Her anonymous companion set her down upon the floor. "Wait here," he adjured before slipping back out the door.

Her mind was surprisingly blank. In a buried part of her soul, she impassively reflected that she should be screaming, sobbing, throwing things; at the moment, though, she lacked the energy for any of it.

They were gone, every last one of them. And there was nothing she could do.

Two figures entered the hut, silhouetted against the daylight. Sango didn't bother raising her eyes to see them, not really caring who they were.

"You have our deepest sympathies," one stated in a voice that sounded oddly familiar, and she vaguely registered that the man was bowing toward her. She didn't move.

"Acknowledge Lord Kagewaki when he speaks to you, girl!" said the second, his tone much gruffer.

"Quiet, Brother Seikai," the first motioned him to silence with one elegant hand, but Sango's gaze had jerked up at the mention of the lord's name. She recognized him as the same man who had visited her father only a week ago, who had sat and counseled with him about the impending war, who had pleaded for his help.

"You," she whispered, meeting his keen eyes, recalling the unsettling gaze she had previously experienced from him.

"Are you injured?" Lord Kagewaki intoned, apparently unaware of her borderline-hostile tone of voice. "The men said they found you among the dead."

"How did _you_ come here?" she countered with a query of her own, her mind suddenly afire with a thousand suspicions. She couldn't forget the argument between her father and Kagewaki, nor the contention that had arisen when the slayers' allegiance had been refused. And now, for this same man to appear within hours of the entire village being slaughtered…

"Our envoy was passing through this country on our way north," Kagewaki readily answered. "Last night, after we encamped, the monks could sense a great disturbance of demonic energy, and then, just before dawn, we received a plea for help. We hastened here, only to find the village already destroyed. And so we're doing what we can now to lay these poor people to an honorable rest."

Sango stared up at him, seeking in her trauma to latch on to anything that made sense in this new, jumbled life she found herself living. "A plea for help…?" she repeated uncertainly, wondering why the slayers would send word to outsiders. Such a thing went against their nature.

The two men exchanged glances, and the monk Seikai cleared his throat. "A young boy," he clarified, "badly injured and carried on the back of a demon-cat."

Sango's heart leapt in her chest, beating erratically as a desperate surge of hope pulsed through her. "Where?" she demanded, springing forward on her knees and catching hold of the monk's dusky gold robes. "Where is he now? Is he alive?"

"W-we brought him along," Seikai answered, bewildered. "He's being tended in another—wait! You mustn't—!" His words fell on deaf ears. Sango had already hurled herself past both of them, bursting through the doorway to the outside world. The bright sun nearly blinded her as she scanned the ruined village, eyes darting past the patchwork of destruction to hone in on a cluster of less-damaged dwellings. The next instant, she was bolting across the grounds, a spectacle to the hard-working soldiers and monks as she hurtled from house to house, peering briefly in before moving on.

Each in turn stood empty, and her frenzy escalated as she heard footsteps clattering behind her. Seikai still called for her to stop, but she ignored him, continuing in her search. And then…

The darkness in the next hut obscured the figure that lay upon the floor, so much so that Sango's mind didn't at first register it; she froze momentarily, trying to discern if her eyes were playing tricks on her.

"Kohaku," she breathed, starting into the gloomy room, taking in the sight of the bandaged, sleeping boy as a miser would a pile of gold. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she choked on a sob in her throat, her apathy-suppressed emotions crashing to the surface in a ragged release.

"You know him, then?"

The voice startled her, deep and calculating, not unlike Lord Kagewaki's. Sango whirled, for the first time catching sight of a figure sitting in the corner by the door, a man shrouded in a white pelt, sharp eyes carefully observing her through the pale mask of a baboon.

Sango stared back at him for a moment, breathing heavily from her frantic search and overflow of feelings. Then, wordlessly, she turned and knelt next to her brother, checking him for fever and examining his various injuries. Her first priority was Kohaku; she would concern herself with oddly clothed strangers only after his well-being was assured.

She pointedly disregarded the tumult of a panting Seikai as he erupted into the tiny hut. Instead, she leaned forward to listen to Kohaku's breathing pattern, to watch the rise and fall of his thickly bandaged chest, idly listening to the monk's gasped apology.

"F-forgive me, Lord Naraku! I tried to stop her!"

"Do not concern yourself," the baboon-swathed man responded. "It appears she knows our mystery messenger."

"Where's Kirara?" Sango spoke up abruptly, glancing once around the room before resting an accusing gaze on the two strangers.

"Kirara?" Lord Naraku repeated.

Her attention shifted from him to the bald monk. "You said that Kohaku came to you on the back of a fire-cat—Kirara, where is she?"

The two men exchanged glances, one apprehensive, the other seemingly bored.

"Fetch the creature," Naraku commanded, and the monk quickly bowed and scurried off to obey. "The fire-cat is under watch by some of our spiritual brethren," he explained when the two had been left alone. "We did not know whether she was a minion of Lord Sesshomaru or not."

Sango's breath caught in her lungs. "Lord Sesshomaru?"

"The demon hordes that attacked this village did so under his direction. Surely you did not think this was a random act of aggression?"

"But," she protested, even as pieces clicked into place in her mind, "this village was no threat to him… we're so far removed; we posed no threat!"

The fur-clad figure shrugged negligently. "Perhaps he decided to eliminate the exterminators _before_ they became a threat—a pre-emptive strike. Or perhaps it was merely done in spite; demons have long memories, after all, and this village did help in Lord Sesshomaru's defeat nearly a quarter of a century ago. Either way, there is no doubt that this destruction was his doing. Who else could organize those lesser demons into such an assault?"

Sango felt almost as though a blanket had been pulled from her mind, exposing her to the raw, brutal truth. _Who else indeed?_

The words on the tip of her tongue died as Seikai reappeared, basket in hand. Sango could hear scratching from within and noted with irritation the holy wards pasted to the wickerwork. Seikai removed them before she could rebuke him, though, and from the tiny confines ricocheted the two-tailed cat; Sango barely caught the quivering creature in time, holding her close as Kirara plaintively mewed.

"Kirara," she whispered, reaching for her brother with her free hand, "and Kohaku." They were both safe, both alive. If only…

_…ashen face, dull eyes, cold fingers interlaced with her own…_

Images of her father's broken body flooded her mind, consuming her with grief even in this fleeting moment of joy.

"I'll kill him," she vowed impulsively, voice hardened with resolve beneath an unconscious stream of tears.

"Kill whom?" Naraku inquired as though the matter was simply a passing curiosity.

"Lord Sesshomaru. I'll kill him."

The sharp-eyed man grunted with… satisfaction? Seikai, however, promptly voiced a sneering protest. "Don't be stupid, girl! You wouldn't last five seconds against a demon of his caliber!"

"Don't underestimate me because I'm a woman," Sango snapped, her grip on her brother's limp hand involuntarily tightening. "I am a fully trained slayer! If I had been here when the hordes attacked—"

"You'd be dead." The monk's cruel words slashed across her more bitterly than any weapon ever could. "Be grateful you're alive and don't throw your life away in a futile attempt at revenge! Only a core of highly trained spiritual warriors will succeed in destroying the demon emperor—leave that job to us!"

Sango bristled. "Listen, you…"

"Brother Seikai is correct." Naraku's quiet voice cut through the tense atmosphere like a hot knife. "You should not waste your strength in a single-handed attempt to destroy Sesshomaru. If vengeance is your goal, you would do well to channel it in other directions. Demons, after all, can't help but be violent—it is in their very nature. And while you could rest the destruction of your village solely on Lord Sesshomaru's shoulders, there is ultimately another who is to blame…"

His words trailed off on a leading note, calculated to make her ask him for more of an explanation. Sango eyed the man suspiciously, her instincts lightly warning her not to play his game. Not that it mattered; in truth, she had no choice, she realized, giving in with an unfriendly glare.

"What are you talking about?"

Beneath the fringe of jagged baboon teeth, Naraku's mouth twisted into a grim smile. "Lord Sesshomaru is acting according to his vicious nature; it's the very reason he was imprisoned in the first place. However, he did not escape through mere luck or coincidence. He would still be in exile were it not for the assistance of another." Naraku paused, turning his attention to the bald monk beside him.

Seikai grunted, his visage contorted into one of unadulterated loathing. "That's true," he affirmed as Sango stared, wide-eyed. "We were betrayed by one of our own. Were it not for the treachery of one cowardly spirit-guard, the emperor would never have escaped Nishi-no-shima."

"So," Naraku concluded, "really the slaughter of your village rests on that traitor's head. Would it not be more reasonable for you to avenge your people against him?"

A thick silence descended as Sango digested this new information. She had a sneaking suspicion that she was being manipulated, but as her thoughts tarried on the events of the past several hours, she wasn't so sure she minded. Kirara's tails flicked, and Kohaku's hand twitched in her grasp. The sounds of digging and murmured prayers filtered through the walls from outside.

"Who is he?" she found herself asking, her voice seeming strangely detached to her own ears.

The two men glanced at one another, speculation in both their eyes.

"His name is Miroku," Naraku calmly informed her.

**………**

Miroku sneezed violently.

"My, my," intoned a thin, reedy voice nearby. "Someone must be gossiping about you."

"Only good things, I'm sure," he replied, turning a charming smile on the speaker, a withered old woman. He took in the sight of her pursed lips and wrinkled face and idly wondered if she had ever been beautiful. Not that it really mattered—age had a quiet sort of dignity to it, one that Miroku would never experience himself, thanks to the curse in his hand.

"Have you lived long in this town?" he inquired conversationally. He should have been looking for Inuyasha, but he wasn't about to pass up an opportunity to dig for information on Naraku, especially since most of the villagers wouldn't even make eye contact, let alone speak to him.

"All my life," the woman replied with a faint smile. "It wasn't always like this, so cold and oppressive. You'll pardon my neighbors—strangers are not trusted in these parts."

"So I've seen. I had come here inquiring after an old family friend, but no one will agree to speak with me. Perhaps…?" He adopted his most hopeful expression, inwardly praying that the old bat had some sympathies he could play on.

A moment later, a wry smile curled across her face, the cobweb of wrinkles shifting and contorting with the effort. "You're certainly a handsome one," she commented, motioning him into her home. "Come in; perhaps I once knew of your 'old family friend.'"

Miroku silently thanked his lucky stars and followed the crone into her dwelling. A few scant minutes later, he found himself seated between two tiny, furry dogs, making polite conversation with the old woman seated across from him. His surroundings were worn, yet comfortable, testifying that this household had likely been prosperous at one time, though perhaps not so much now. He had the impression, though, that money was scarce for most of the town's inhabitants.

His presence seemed an indulgence to the crone as she smiled graciously and accepted his feint compliments. "I think," she stated when she had finally had her fill of such niceties, "that you did not come to admire my home or my dogs."

"That is true," Miroku agreed all too readily. He gently pushed away one yipping pet and plunged into the avenue of conversation he thought most prudent. "In all your years in this town, were you ever acquainted with a priestess named Kikyo?"

His first instinct had been to inquire directly after Naraku, but some quiet voice within told him to postpone that particular line of questioning. Kikyo had served as a miko to these people; doubtless any memory the old woman had of her would be positive, and would loosen her tongue toward other topics.

Much to his surprise, though, the crone looked first surprised, then disgusted. "If you're searching for that demon-lover, you've come to the wrong place," she stated coldly.

"Then you do know of her?" he pressed, ignoring her sudden stiffness.

Her eyes glinted with stony wrath, and the slight movement of her body indicated that she was about to send him packing. Miroku waylaid her by resorting to one of the oldest methods of persuasion known to man; a few coins jingled together as they clattered down on the floor between the two.

The old woman arrested her dismissal of him in favor of scrutinizing the proffered sum of money. "If you must know," Miroku volunteered, his voice guarded, "Kikyo is not really an old family friend."

With fragile fingers, she picked up the coins one by one before meeting his expectant gaze. "That _woman_," she sneered, deigning not to pronounce Kikyo's name, "abandoned her calling a decade ago to marry a _hanyou_." She spat upon the ground, her expression vitriolic. "She hasn't been seen in these parts since, and good riddance."

"B-but," Miroku protested, slightly confused, "I understood that the hanyou was executed just prior to the wedding. Was I misinformed?"

A cross between a smile and a grimace leapt to her shriveled features, a graceless snort erupting from her. "The girl had low tastes," she pronounced as though declaring a curse. "She was engaged to a hanyou who was put to death just before their marriage, true. Three months later, she found herself another to wed—a dark, sinister creature who called himself Naraku."

Miroku felt his stomach wrench into knots at the mention of that single, loathsome name. The old woman across from him was shaking her head back and forth in open disgust. "There really is no accounting for tastes, is there?" she commented rhetorically.

"Naraku is a demon," he managed to counter, his voice quiet.

The old woman shrugged negligently. "Hanyou, demon, it's all the same filth. He masqueraded as a human around these parts; ran some sort of trade or something. It doesn't matter. That _woman_ married him and turned her back on the people of this town just when we started needing her the most. I always said humans and demons couldn't live together peaceably, whatever ideals people may cling to." She shook her head, clicking her tongue against her teeth in disapproval, and Miroku suddenly realized that she was about to enter on a lengthy tirade, which he had absolutely no desire to hear. He had gleaned enough information from this source already.

"Well, I think I've troubled you enough for one day." The words spilled out of his mouth as he stood and bowed politely. "I thank you for your time, dear lady." He dropped a few more coins for good measure, snatched up his staff, and was out the door before she could so much as respond.

So Kikyo had married Naraku, he reflected as he put some distance between himself and the crone's house. He had sensed that the two would be connected somehow.

Now all he had to do was break the news to Inuyasha.

**………**

**A/N: The plot thickens… or just congeals. I haven't decided yet. **

**Über-thanks to Lavender Valentine, Kyia Star, Maiden of the Seven Stars, and undecidedlycertain for the lovely reviews!**


	13. Reunions

**Disclaimer: _InuYasha_ is the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi, and _The Count of Monte Cristo_ is a product of the brilliant mind of Alexadre Dumas. I own rights to neither and am writing this story for my own twisted amusement, not for profit. **

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_Rising Sun_

Chapter Thirteen—Reunion

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The setting sun cast a blaze of red across the campsite; Totosai skirted away among the shadows, hoping that no one had noticed his egress. A stone's throw from where they were settling for the night, a stream gurgled, the trickling of water beckoning to the ancient fire demon and his aching feet.

That damn Sesshomaru was a task master when it came to travel. Were it not for Rin's presence, Totosai doubted whether their entourage would even bother stopping at night, which was a great inconvenience to him and his arthritic bones. The demon emperor kept a rigid pace without any regard for others, the party's daytime progress interrupted only by the increasingly frequent advents of various allies.

They had been arriving in droves, representatives of demon tribes from all over the northern lands; some of them joined Sesshomaru's entourage, while others were dispatched to their own kind as his emissaries. Totosai wondered at how quickly word of the inuyoukai had spread, and at how many demons presented themselves as his loyal subjects. Apparently the current regime left much to be desired.

Nevertheless, the blacksmith was tired of the newcomers and tired of travel in general. He still didn't know where they were headed, and he wasn't certain that he cared. At the moment, all he really wanted was a homey cave on the lava plains, with an anvil and a year-supply of sake at his beck and call… And he was just near desperate enough to risk his neck sneaking away to get it.

Tonight, though, he settled for dipping his feet in the cool, rushing stream, sighing as it coursed over his bunions and blisters. At times like this, he envied Rin with her two-headed dragon, Ah-Uh's rancid smell notwithstanding. The little girl had not walked more than twenty steps since the creature's arrival; as such, she was bouncy and full of smiles and chatter, while the rest of the company trudged along in morose silence.

Totosai settled back on his elbows, listening to the muted sounds wafting over from the campsite, as well as the buzzing of insects in the falling darkness. He closed his eyes, humming a tuneless strain and half-wishing he'd been left on Takeshima with Inuyasha.

A low, moaning sound pierced his thoughts and caused his eyes to fly open.

He sat up abruptly, seeking the source of the noise in the field stretching before him. The tall grasses waved as the wind rustled through them, the crickets chirping blithely, with no sign of anything amiss.

He must have been mistaken, he thought after a moment when nothing out of the ordinary presented itself. He was finally going senile, hearing things that weren't really there.

As he closed his eyes and once again relaxed, the call sounded a second time, rising in timbre as one asking a question. Totosai scrambled to his feet in an instant, scanning the field, eyes alighting on a dark shape some twenty meters away. A surge of disbelief pulsed through him, wrenching his heart as a choked cry clawed itself from his throat.

With wanton disregard, he scudded across the stream, ignoring the splashes of cold water that soaked his clothes in his frenzy to reach the opposite bank. Soon enough, he was closing the distance between himself and his quarry, the world around him slowing to a snail's pace when compared with the frantic beating of his heart. He felt like he was running through molasses, that the very air had become thick and viscous as he made a mad dash forward.

He reached the source of the moans at last, throwing his arms around its thick neck and weeping like a child.

**………**

"Lord Sesshomaru," Rin piped up, dark eyes peering into the dusky horizon, "why is Lord Totosai hugging a cow?"

The dog demon's amber gaze followed hers, but he merely grunted, turning away once more.

"Sometimes it's better not to ask," Jaken muttered nearby.

The blacksmith's voice floated over to the campsite, infused with joyous overtones. "Momo! Precious, sweet Momo! Where on earth have you been?"

In response, the demon bull simply lowed and snorted.

**………**

"Now, now, Inuyasha, I know you're upset, but try to contain yourself." Miroku held up placating hands, his expression one of earnest pleading. "Remember, it's bad luck to kill the messenger…" His voice trailed off as he dropped the defensive position and frowned deeply.

"No, no," he muttered, "that's much too cliché." He struck a nonchalant pose, clapping an imaginary figure in front of him on one shoulder and reasoning with a grin, "Aren't you glad now that you didn't marry the treacherous woman yourself?" He raised one eyebrow and added, "And besides, there are so many other fish in the sea…"

Instinct caused him to wince, and he resumed his pensive stance. "Definitely not. _That_ would get me disemboweled on the spot."

"Look, Inuyasha," he apostrophized once more, "you can't really blame her. I mean, she thought you were dead, that she was never going to see you again! And got married only three months later," he added in a small voice, "to a man you despise. So much for everlasting devotion and fidelity…"

It had been hours since he had left the old woman's house, and he'd seen no sign of the hanyou. Granted, he hadn't exactly been looking. At first, he'd wandered aimlessly, wondering how he could possibly break the news of Kikyo and Naraku's marriage to Inuyasha. Then, he'd come across a small inn and suddenly remembered that they would need somewhere to stay that evening… One feigned exorcism later, he'd secured a couple of rooms, but he had felt compelled to make certain they were up to his standard and had spent some time inspecting them… Then, he had gone to find something to eat, since he didn't want to face such a difficult confrontation on an empty stomach…

Okay, so he had been stalling. All afternoon he had been playing the prospective conversation over in his imagination, and he had yet to get a good outcome. It always ended with him somehow getting maimed. And with Inuyasha being heartbroken, but that detail was obviously secondary to Miroku's physical well-being.

Speaking of physical well-being… "Oh, not another one," the monk groused as a now-familiar stinging sensation pinched his arm. He slapped the spot, glaring down at the tiny smear adorning his hand. That old woman's dogs had given him _fleas_. He'd killed five already, and was itching—literally—to get back to the inn and take a long, hot bath.

Night was descending, though, and he felt a growing worry gnaw at the pit of his stomach; the innkeeper had made a point to recommend he be indoors before dark, and Miroku could already see the streets clearing of traffic. He needed to find Inuyasha, needed to face the music and just get the whole ordeal over with. And yet, the hanyou was nowhere to be seen.

Who knew? With any luck, he'd already discovered the dire news from someone else.

That very thought struck Miroku, and he stopped dead in his tracks, wondering why it hadn't occurred to him before. Inuyasha had doubtless been out looking for leads on Kikyo's whereabouts; who was to say he hadn't found them? The monk suddenly contemplated, with a touch of annoyance, if he had spent the entire afternoon anxious over nothing. Inuyasha could have easily discovered that information from someone else…

And even if he hadn't…

Well, why exactly was Miroku bound to relay it? His shifty thoughts latched on to that idea as though it were a lifeline; sure, he traveled with Inuyasha, but it wasn't as though he were beholden to him for anything. Actually, if anyone was beholden, it was Inuyasha, since Miroku had been the one to provide for their escape from Takeshima.

"Yeah," he huffed, to no one in particular, "if it wasn't for me, he'd still be sitting around on that damned, clammy pile of rocks! That ungrateful…"

"Since when did you start talking to yourself, monk?"

Miroku jerked in surprise as the hanyou in question landed next to him, glaring at him with subdued contempt.

"Where have you been?" the monk inquired, ignoring the query posed to him. "I've been looking for you all afternoon." He searched the half-demon's face, hoping to discern some sign of enlightenment, but was met with a distant expression and a slight tightening of the mouth.

"Obviously you didn't bother checking the wharf. I've been down watching the ships sail in and out of the harbor."

"So you… you didn't find out anything about Kikyo?" The question was posed in a tenuous manner that caused Inuyasha to shoot a curious frown in the monk's direction.

"No," he said shortly. "The only thing I found out was that Old Man Myoga's shipping company, along with most of the others, has been run out of business. Looks like the stupid flea got himself cornered out of the market by one of his own employees."

Miroku opened his mouth to respond, but before any words could leave his tongue, another voice shattered the atmosphere.

"Just who are you calling 'stupid'?"

The hanyou froze, his eyes going wide as a tiny creature leapt from the folds of Miroku's robes, launching itself across the space between them to land on his neck. Miroku himself could only stare in shock, vaguely gesturing that something should probably be done about the talking parasite.

The pinch of a fleabite snapped Inuyasha from his stupor, and he immediately smacked the site, drawing back his clawed hand to peer down at the youkai now nestled in his grasp.

"Myoga?" he intoned, his voice hollow.

The flea had certainly seen better days. His hair had thinned and his mustache drooped sadly, his clothing worn and frayed at the ends. From the tiny, choked sounds he was making, he seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"It really is you," the parasite whimpered. "This monk has been saying your name all afternoon, and I was certain there was some mistake… But no one else's blood tastes like that…"

"Where the hell did you pick him up?" the hanyou demanded of Miroku, who could only splutter in response.

"He came to visit the house I've been living in," Myoga babbled, wiping tears from his eyes with one tiny hand. "He started asking questions about Kikyo, so I got suspicious and thought I'd follow him." Miroku was now the one making choked noises, trying to figure out how to shut the flea up.

"Questions about Kikyo?" Inuyasha repeated sharply, his keen amber gaze boring into the monk. "What questions? Did you discover anything?"

"Of course he did!" Myoga moaned, and Miroku despairingly abandoned the hopes of withholding the dire information from his traveling companion. "He discovered that she married Naraku years ago, and that she's living in Kyoto, the wife of a wealthy man!" the flea blurted, unceremoniously letting the proverbial cat out of the bag.

The air suddenly grew still, as though the world itself had grinded to a screeching halt; Miroku helplessly watched as Inuyasha registered the divulged information, the only manifestation reflected in the shocked, distant expression in hanyou's eyes. The monk steeled himself up for the anticipated disbelief, the barrage of questions, the inevitable burst of rage… but none of these things came.

"I-Inuyasha," he prompted, possessed with a gripping terror at the half-demon's seemingly frozen demeanor. That expression… it would have looked more at home on Sesshomaru's face than here on the typically brash hanyou. "Inuyasha, I've retained some rooms for us at the nearby inn," the monk ventured, motioning vaguely down the road. "We should… we should go there; we can discuss what to do next…"

"You go," Inuyasha interrupted, his voice quiet but slicing the atmosphere like a knife. He mutely held out his hand, depositing Myoga onto the palm Miroku grudgingly stretched out in response.

"B-but the inn…" the monk faltered.

"I'll meet you there," Inuyasha pronounced as he turned and strode away, his face unreadable. "Don't worry. I can smell where you are a mile away, monk."

"But Inuyasha!" Myoga's shrill voice rang out in the twilight air. "You mustn't be on the streets after dark! It's too dangerous!"

A low grunt was his only answer; the hanyou didn't so much as glance back, but just kept walking, his posture straight and his attitude closed.

"Thanks a lot," Miroku quipped to the youkai resting on his upturned palm. "Very considerate of you to break the news to him like that."

"At least I didn't tell him he should be grateful he didn't marry her," the flea huffed, folding his two sets of arms in an affronted gesture.

"Well, there is that. So what exactly happens after dark around here?"

"The Thunder Brothers happen. Or rather, Manten happens. Hiten's usually in Kyoto, but he leaves his brother behind to wreak havoc across this area. I hope for Inuyasha's sake that tonight is quiet."

Miroku nodded, frowning as he shifted his own steps back toward the inn. "So tell me," he said in the falling darkness, "exactly how many of your friends are currently inhabiting my robes?"

**………**

He didn't know where he was going, but then, that wasn't really important at the moment. Inuyasha wandered through the streets, his mind a blur and his thoughts tumbling through it without any seeming order.

_Kikyo… married…_

He had considered it. In fact, he'd spent the entire afternoon watching ships and reflecting on how nothing in the world was as it should be. Caught up in that vein of logic, he had forced himself to consider the possibility of Kikyo being married, but he hadn't actually believed it to be true. The very idea had seemed so foreign to him before, but now it burrowed into his mind, taking root. Of course he'd been a fool ever to believe that she would wait for his return, but to marry _Naraku_…?

The hanyou found himself plagued with a strong impulse to smash something into tiny pieces.

How long had she waited? How long after he was gone before she turned to that loathsome man? Or maybe… maybe it had been planned from the start, maybe Kikyo had…

He shook his head violently. "No," he ground out. "No way. She would never… would never…" But he couldn't finish the sentence. She would never betray him? But hadn't she done just that in marrying his rival? She had always sworn that she and Naraku were friends, nothing more. At what point had that changed? After Inuyasha's imprisonment, or… or before…?

After all, he had spent months at a time out on the ocean, months away from her, months when she could have been doing anything. He had only her word as proof of her fidelity, but he had trusted her implicitly. Her declarations of love had been so sincere; her memory alone had sustained him through his darkest hours.

Now in the light of day, so to speak, doubt rankled and festered deep within him, and he wondered if everything he had once believed was in actuality a lie.

His sudden urge toward destruction amplified tenfold.

With a frustrated growl, he glanced around at the deserted street, seeking out some inanimate object upon which he could exercise his pent-up wrath. The windows in most of the buildings were black, though he knew they weren't abandoned. The people here, for whatever reason, apparently did not use lamps after dark. Perhaps the oil was too expensive…

A couple streets away, a loud crash sounded, and Inuyasha could make out the unmistakable sounds of a skirmish of some sort. A smile twisted itself across his face, revealing his fangs as his eyes took on a hardened glint. He needed a distraction at the moment, after all; how fortunate for him that one seemed to be presenting itself.

Senses heightened, he took off in a run, listening to several crashes and shouts. A blinding flash of light appeared behind a far corner, streaking across the space in front of him in a crackle of energy as it disappeared again behind a row of houses. He heard it impact with a building, saw the cloud of dust and debris puff up into the sky as a telltale sign of destruction.

Better and better – there were youkai involved.

He bounded forward, growing ever more eager to enter the fray, when a single cry shattered his focus; it was a child's cry, filled with terror and desperation. Inuyasha stopped dead in his tracks, staring ahead, wondering just what was happening on the next street over.

To his astonishment, a tiny figure scampered around the corner at breakneck speed. Inuyasha felt his jaw go slack as he recognized the sight and scent of the kitsune child he had encountered earlier. Gone was the sullen and superior attitude, though; the kit fairly radiated panic instead. He had been looking behind him as he ran but turned forward at last, skidding to a halt when he discovered the hanyou standing in his path.

The child's eyes were wide and tear-filled, and his mouth gaped, quivering as he looked first at the obstacle before him and then back the way he came, as though trying to decide which route was preferable.

"What kind of trouble you in now, runt?" Inuyasha demanded, keeping one eye on the trembling kit and another on the corner from whence he had just come.

"M-muh-muh—" was all the child could manage as he backed up a step.

A loud roar sounded from behind, causing him to jump in trepidation, whirling to face the impending threat.

Sure enough, a large youkai bounded around the corner, eyes momentarily darting around the street before zeroing in on the kit's location. "Thought you could outrun Manten?" the newcomer leered, baring two rows of sharp teeth in his hideous head. He was quite possibly the ugliest youkai Inuyasha had ever encountered—which was saying a lot—with a huge, bald head and reptilian face. His bulky girth exuded elemental power, and his scent needled at the hanyou's mind, so similar to one he remembered all too well. No doubt this was Hiten's brother, though any resemblance between the two ended with their inherent smells.

Manten, for his part, hadn't even registered the second presence, so intent was his attention upon the whimpering kitsune. He advanced slowly, the air around him sparking with electricity. "Thought I wouldn't be able to catch up to you? Thought I would give up my delectable snack so easily?"

He blinked and stopped short upon discovering his quarry quite suddenly blocked from view by another body.

"D'you always pick on runts?" Inuyasha asked, flexing one set of claws as he glared a challenge to the elemental demon.

Manten's astonishment melted away into a sneer. "Get out of my way," he growled. "Mind your own business, or you'll regret it."

"Better run now, while you have the chance," the hanyou cast over his shoulder to the wide-eyed child. "I got an old score to settle with your brother," he added to the youkai he was about to fight, "though I don't mind practicing on you."

His opponent's response was an angry snarl. In a wave of adrenaline and overconfidence, Inuyasha leapt forward into the fray, exchanging blows with the demon. They seemed equally matched, each blocking the other's attacks, and in a fit of frustration, the hanyou finally pulled back his claws for a more powerful assault. Manten blocked the movement with one arm and smashed his other into the hanyou's stomach, sending him flying back in the direction he had come. Inuyasha skidded and came to a stop, lying on his back halfway down the road.

A whimper in the nearby shadows momentarily took his attention away from his advancing opponent, and he was able to discern the hunched figure of the kitsune watching the fight as it progressed.

"Hey, runt!" he growled. "I'm trying to protect you! Run away, already!" He didn't wait to see whether the kit obeyed or not but jumped to his feet, positioning himself in a defensive stance, willing himself not to get overzealous and careless in the fight.

Manten was laughing as he approached, satisfaction etched into his grotesque visage. "A mere half-demon is no match for my might," he scoffed, then lunged into another attack.

Inuyasha defended himself much better this time, though he kept getting distracted by an odd feeling coming from his belt, from Tetsusaiga. It was almost as though the sword were pulsing, calling to him to be used. He dodged a blow from his opponent and leapt back, pulling the weapon from its sheath and briefly inspecting it.

To the naked eye it still appeared to be a chipped, rusty old sword. He could feel a strange sort of power coming from its hilt, however; it felt sluggish as though just awakening. His grip unconsciously tightened as he tried to tap into that power.

A loud guffaw brought him back to the present. Manten had stopped short when the weapon was first produced, but he was now nearly doubled over with mirth. "You think you can even scratch me with that piece of junk?" he demanded. "It looks like it hasn't been sharpened this century, or last! Come on, then!" He straightened his posture, arrogantly gesturing the hanyou forward.

Inuyasha hesitated momentarily. In all his practices with Tetsusaiga, the sword had not cut so much as a blade of grass; it would likely just bounce off the skin of his demon opponent. Then again, in all his practices with Tetsusaiga, it had never displayed any sort of inner strength, had never pleaded for combat as it seemed to do now. Determination set into his face as he tightened both hands around the sword and took a running leap forward, raising it high in the air for a mighty swing.

Manten lifted one armored arm to deflect the attack, a laugh gurgling in his mouth. Just as Inuyasha was descending upon him, though, the demon's eyes widened, and he threw himself out of the way.

Inuyasha swung the weapon, feeling it graze his opponent as he rolled to one side. The hanyou whirled as he landed, his feet skidding into a set position as he raised the sword for another attack.

"What trickery is this?" Manten cried, wrath causing his eyes to blaze bright.

Inuyasha's own gaze moved to the sword in his hands, and his jaw nearly dropped. He had felt no change in weight, but the weapon had somehow shifted into a huge blade, nearly as tall as himself, its presence exuding a powerful aura. He could sense that this wasn't a complete transformation, however; Tetsusaiga's power seemed to fluctuate, as though he hadn't fully tapped into its true source. It was unstable, just as a new weapon would be in the hands of an amateur.

Still, it was something. He felt a sudden surge of satisfaction as he made ready to strike again.

Manten, though, had other ideas. The inside of his mouth began to glow, and Inuyasha felt the small hairs on his arms stand on end as electric energy gathered around him. The massive attack burst from the demon's wide-open jaws, an enormous ball of lightning that coursed straight at its target.

Inuyasha braced himself for the impact, planting his sword in front of him in a vain attempt to block some of the demonic energy. To his great surprise, Tetsusaiga diverted the attack to either side of him; only the edges of his robes were singed, and not enough to get upset over.

Suddenly he felt quite grateful for his inheritance.

There wasn't time to dwell on that, though, for Manten hurtled toward him with the intent to finish him off. Inuyasha leapt forward, eagerly slashing his weapon and feeling a rush of satisfaction as it met with flesh and bone. He ripped it away, and Manten stumbled back, holding one hand to his bleeding shoulder, his arm nearly severed at the joint.

Inuyasha would have attacked again, but his opponent retreated even farther, loathing in his glare and wrath upon his lips.

"This isn't over," Manten snarled, even as he backed away.

Realizing that the fight was ending for the time being, the hanyou slung his sword carelessly across one shoulder. "Tell Hiten that Inuyasha sends his regards," he sneered.

The elemental demon didn't seem to recognize his name, nor was there any reason he should. He simply vanished around the next corner, fleeing to nurse his wound.

Inuyasha turned his attention then to Tetsusaiga, looking over the transformed sword and trying to memorize the feel of its power; it seemed both part of him and wholly independent from him. "Totosai, what the hell?" he voiced his thoughts aloud. He glanced between the enormous sword and its comparatively tiny sheath, wondering where he was supposed to keep it now.

With a shrug, he decided to try simply putting it away. As Tetsusaiga's tip slid into the miniscule slot, Inuyasha felt the power drain away, the sword returning to its original state as it slipped into its resting place.

"Rusted piece of shit again, huh?" the hanyou mused, pulling it partway from the sheath once more to view the scarred metal. "Maybe it only transforms when I'm fighting someone."

It was a mystery he would have to solve, he realized, before Sesshomaru came looking for him. His brother expected him to master the Tetsusaiga, and Inuyasha had the sudden, sneaking suspicion that that was going to be even more difficult than he had first assumed.

A poorly suppressed sniffle caught his attention, and his nose told him the kitsune child was still crouched among the shadows nearby. Annoyance swelling within, he stomped over to the huddled figure.

"I thought I told you to run away," he scolded, crossing his arms over his chest. The child didn't move, didn't so much as acknowledge his presence. Inuyasha scratched his head, tempering his voice to a less hostile tone to say, "Anyway, it's all over. You can go home now, runt."

His only answer was a miserable sob as the kitsune curled in on himself even further.

Inuyasha felt a twinge of worry. "Hey, kid," he said, squatting down next to the boy and extending a hesitant hand of comfort. It hovered above the child's head for a moment, as he was uncertain how to progress in this situation. "You'd better get home," he advised, pulling back his arm and seating himself cross-legged on the ground. "I'm sure your parents are worried sick about you."

"G-g-got n-no home," the kit stuttered, shuddering with every word. "H-he killed my pa! D-destroyed the house! P-Pa was trying to p-protect me!" He trailed off into a miserable wail, tears streaming from his eyes.

Inuyasha wasn't exactly an expert in dealing with tears—or with children, for that matter—and it certainly wasn't his business what happened to this brat. As he looked down at the sobbing kitune, though, he experienced an uncomfortable flashback to his own life, to that period of time just after his mother had died, when he had lived on the streets of this very town, scrounging for food among piles of trash and dodging away from malicious strangers who meant him harm.

"You don't have any other family?" he ventured hesitantly. "No one else you can go to?"

The kit buried his face in his hands and shook his head, his shoulders convulsing.

For a moment, the hanyou looked around at the darkened street, feeling helpless, wondering if there were any houses along this road that would open their doors to the orphaned boy. No doors stood open at the moment, he realized. No windows were parted, no lights shone. For all the clamor he and Manten had made in their battle, not one of the residents along this road had so much as peeked out to see what was happening.

_Everyone steers clear of the Thunder Brothers_. Hadn't the kit told him that this very afternoon? So this was what the town had degenerated to: people huddling in the warmth and safety of their own homes, closing their eyes and ears to the dangers that lurked around the corner, leaving the weak to fend for themselves.

Disgust welled up in his throat. The kitsune continued crying, the sound muffled but unmistakably filled with despair. In one swift movement, Inuyasha swept him up into his arms and stood, heading back down the road.

The choked sobs broke off as the child gawked up at him.

"A friend of mine reserved a couple rooms in an inn near here," Inuyasha explained, wondering why the hell he was referring to Miroku as a friend all of the sudden. "You can stay there tonight, at least. I don't know how much longer we're going to be here, but we can decide what to do in the morning."

The kitsune continued to stare.

"Ya got a name, runt?" Inuyasha prompted.

"Shippo," he managed with a hiccup.

"Well, Shippo, if you make any cracks about my 'hanyou filth' I'm tossing you back out on the street, understand?"

The boy nodded and settled down into his hold, his body relaxing as the evening's tension drained away. Inuyasha had no doubt that he would be asleep before they reached the inn, and wondered what he was supposed to tell Miroku.

"Keh. I don't owe that idiot any explanations," he told the stars, and they twinkled back their hearty agreement.

**………**

"You did _what_?" Miroku exclaimed, wide-eyed.

"Keep your voice down," Inuyasha shushed him, glaring. "The kid's asleep, and these walls are thin."

"I'm afraid the esteemed monk is correct in feeling such distress," Myoga spoke up, hopping up and down as though to emphasize his presence. "This is indeed a terrible occurrence!"

"Trust me, that monk is in no way 'esteemed,'" the hanyou responded dryly. "And why's it such a big deal? I got into a fight with one of the Thunder Brothers and left him a little worse for wear. I woulda done more if he hadn't turned tail and run."

Miroku was pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off a sudden, massive headache. "Inuyasha," he pronounced, as though speaking to a three-year-old, "Manten is the district magistrate. He could have us all arrested and executed."

"District magistrate?" he repeated as though he had heard wrong. "Shippo said he destroyed his house and killed his father. What the hell kind of district magistrate is that?"

"One who is extremely secure in his position," said Myoga. "Hiten and Manten have some sort of connection with the government—that's how they were able to run every other shipping company out of business, too. Hiten acquired a ship of his own a couple years after you were ex—after you disappeared," he corrected himself, "and suddenly he had all the government shipping contracts. Then, the private merchants started going to him as well, saying only that he was 'highly recommended.' Manten was made district magistrate when Lord Kagewaki received a promotion to a higher position and moved to Kyoto. And ever since then, he's done whatever he pleased with this town."

"He got what was coming to him then," Inuyasha huffed, staunchly folding his arms.

"That's hardly the point," Miroku spoke up, impatience thick on his voice. "He has command of the local military! We could have soldiers pounding down our door at any time! Did you think about that? We're not safe here anymore!"

The hanyou grunted, clenching his jaw. "Yeah, well, it ain't as though we got any reason to stay. We can leave first thing tomorrow morning, be on the road before the sun's up."

"And what about the boy?" Miroku pressed, obviously not adverse to this course of action.

Inuyasha shrugged. "We'll take him along if he wants. Or leave him behind if he doesn't."

"That's hardly a plan," the monk reproved him with a frown. "Do you even know the first thing about taking care of a child?"

By now, though, Inuyasha was tired of being scolded. "All I know is that a kid his age shouldn't be abandoned to the whims of society – especially in a town like this that doesn't give a damn. As far as I'm concerned, he can come with us, and we'll make do. Besides," he added with a wry grin, "Sesshomaru's got that runt tagging along after _him_, and he hasn't gotten overwhelmed and abandoned her yet, has he?"

Miroku conceded that point, recalling just how the dog demon had acquired his pint-sized shadow. "True. All right, the kid comes with us, then."

**………**

"But Rin wants to come too!"

"Quiet, brat! Lord Sesshomaru has decreed that you will stay behind, and stay behind you will!"

"But Jaken—"

"That's _Lord_ Jaken to you!"

The little girl folded her arms in a rebellious stance. "Lord Sesshomaru said Rin doesn't have to give Jaken a title." As if to emphasize her point, she stuck her tongue out at the underling.

"Why you impertinent little—!"

"Jaken, enough." Sesshomaru's flat command brought the argument to a standstill. Jaken sputtered and attempted to garble an apology, but the imperial dog demon simply ignored him, turning his attention to the child. "Rin, you will stay here. Come, Jaken."

The toad took this opportunity to stick his own tongue out at Rin, who was too busy protesting to notice. "But Lord Sesshomaru! Rin wants to come too!" She took three steps after him, but her movement was cut short as he turned a decisively negative glare in her direction.

The inuyoukai held her attention with that austere gaze, his narrowed eyes daring her to contradict his decision again. After only a moment, the little girl lowered her head, submissive.

"But," she spoke up wistfully, her eyes lifting once more to meet his, "you will come back, won't you? You will come back for Rin?"

To the innocent bystander, Sesshomaru's expression would have appeared severe, unyielding. Rin, though, recognized the miniscule softening of his eyes, an almost indiscernible sign of reassurance. In response, she bobbed her head obediently and smiled.

"Rin will wait here, with Ah-Un."

Jaken's chest puffed self-importantly. "The dragon is coming with—"

"Ah-Un will remain behind," Sesshomaru interrupted, already walking away from them.

Totosai, sitting cross-legged atop his three-eyed bull, had watched the entire exchange with curiosity. "Don't you think you're being a little harsh on the girl?" he inquired as Momo fell in step beside the emperor. "She practically worships you, after all."

"Humans are weak," Sesshomaru answered coldly, his attention fixed upon the horizon. "To journey any further along this road would endanger her life."

"And leaving her behind with a pack of demons won't?"

Amber eyes slid askance to view the demon blacksmith. "She will come to no harm in my absence," the inuyoukai pronounced as though declaring absolute truth.

Totosai experienced the sudden mental image of what would happen if Sesshomaru returned to discover the child in some way injured. Mounds of mangled bodies met his mind's eye, and he winced. "You really do care for her, don't you?"

This earned him a full gaze from the emperor, whose expression seemed more than usually stony. "No more than I care for my clothing or my lands or anything else that belongs to me," he answered, which was explanation enough.

The blacksmith's bulbous eyes shifted down to rest upon the sword at Sesshomaru's side, Tenseiga. The demon had scorned it as a birthright, had openly voiced its worthlessness, and yet had kept it with him all these years, simply because it belonged to him.

"Perhaps she'll be of use to you one day," Totosai stated vaguely.

Sesshomaru made an almost inaudible grunt and kept walking.

**_

* * *

_**

**A/N: I wasn't sure I'd be able to include a Totosai/Momo reunion in this story, but it worked so well at the start of this chapter that I couldn't resist. Maybe I should have… Oh, and Totosai's wet bunions are fondly dedicated to Nokomarie, who may or may not ever read this.**

**Questions to be answered in the next chapter: Just where is Sesshomaru headed? How goes Sango's quest in tracking down the treacherous monk Miroku? And where the heck has Kagome been? Yes, you read that last one correctly. She's officially entering the story. Finally.**

**Many thanks to all who reviewed!**


	14. Chasing Leads

**Disclaimer: _InuYasha_ is the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi, and _The Count of Monte Cristo_ is a product of the brilliant mind of Alexadre Dumas. I own rights to neither and am writing this story for my own twisted amusement, not for profit. **

………

_Rising Sun_

Chapter Fourteen – Chasings Leads

………

"Do you really expect the taijiya to succeed?"

Naraku paused in the process of descending from his carriage. The question was abrupt, coming seemingly out of thin air. He cast an eye over to the speaker, the monk Seikai, who stood next to his mount as his underlings prepared their camp for the night.

"Succeed?" he repeated idly.

"In killing the traitor," Seikai clarified unnecessarily. "Do you really think she will succeed?"

"Success is relative," Naraku answered negligently, turning away in boredom. In truth, he didn't care whether the girl succeeded according Seikai's standards or not. She was expendable, and any damage she caused would be counted as success. At best, she would eliminate the monk and his longstanding vendetta; at worst, she would die trying. All things considered, even that would not be a tragedy – she was too experienced, too well trained to be manipulated for long. Besides, if she failed, there would be countless others to send in her wake.

In the end Naraku's success was all that mattered, and it certainly did not hinge on one demon slayer.

"Master Hakushin will not be pleased that the traitor's punishment comes not at the hands of one of our own," Seikai called to his retreating back, disrupting his train of thought.

Naraku's mouth twisted in a secretive smirk. "I'm sure Master Hakushin will learn to live with his disappointment."

………

Sango was not having fun.

She stared at the village girl in front of her, wondering exactly how long the vapid little thing could go on about the man of her dreams. "And he was so handsome and charming – I've never seen such beautiful eyes, so deep and compassionate – and his _voice_…"

The taijiya's hand itched, tempted to catch hold of Hirakotsu and silence the insipid chatter with one efficient swing. Violence was not the answer in this case, unfortunately, since the subject of the girl's babbling happened to be a certain lecherous monk.

"He told me he's always dreamed of having a large family – four boys and five girls – and that he had always pictured his little girls with beautiful brown eyes – brown eyes like mine, he said!" She tittered bashfully, hiding her mouth behind one hand. Sango suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. How old was this girl, to be drawn in by such an obvious line? She looked about fourteen.

"And he was going to say more but then his traveling companion interrupted and dragged him away," the girl continued, oblivious to Sango's contempt. "But he promised he would come back this way."

"Which direction did they head?" Sango asked quickly, afraid of being subjected to yet another gushing speech on idealistic hopes and dreams. She didn't have the stomach for it at the moment or, well, _ever_.

Her hasty question, though, caused the village girl to recoil slightly. "They took the south road out of town," she gestured in that direction, then added suspiciously, "Why are _you_ looking for Miroku?"

Sango didn't particularly appreciate the jealous, narrow-eyed scrutiny being directed her way, especially from someone so much younger and less mature. "He got my sister pregnant, robbed my father blind, and disappeared in the middle of the night," she glibly lied, taking grim satisfaction in the shocked expression her words caused. She wasn't by nature deceptive but reasoned that this girl would be better off not living in her delusions. Resisting the urge to whistle, she turned away, leaving the shell-shocked creature to mull over her false revelation.

Only two days ago had Sango caught the monk Miroku's trail; it threaded through a series of small villages, leaving in its wake a collection of girls who were alternately smitten or grossly offended by the man's advances. Seikai had warned her of her quarry's lecherous nature, but she had not realized the extent of it until she began speaking with the victims of his pursuits – the _many_ victims. They ranged in age from thirteen to thirty, bearing tales of smooth words and inappropriate antics. Sango quickly discovered that if she asked the right question in the right place, she could easily draw a gaggle of girls around her, chattering their outrage or – in a few, odd cases – adoration. The repeated phenomenon caused her to be more careful with her inquiries; she had no time to waste being waylaid by such complaints. Usually in such groups, the women would begin commiserating with one another (or else engage in a no-holds-barred cat fight, as happened in one village market) and Sango would slip away, forgotten, ruing the monk's perversion even as it provided her with direction to find him.

Still, even if Miroku's lechery was not a complete surprise, word of his traveling companion had certainly taken her off-guard. When Sango first heard he traveled with a silver-haired demon, a desperate hope snaked through her: for a brief period, she thought she would get the chance to strike down both the monk and Sesshomaru, thereby avenging her people in full. That hope died quickly, though. All rumors of the former emperor – and there were a great many of them – placed him firmly in the north country, hundreds of miles away. The demon traveling with Miroku could not possibly be Sesshomaru.

Who, then, was he?

She would have the opportunity to find out soon enough; she was only a week behind the monk and gaining on him. Still, she found herself wishing that she had more information about her target, especially when it came to his choice of traveling companions. Seikai had only emphasized that Miroku served Sesshomaru, and that if she came across the imperial demon in the flesh she was to withdraw immediately (a command she had no intention of following – if she came face to face with that monster, she would kill him or die trying). Information on Miroku's whereabouts or destination had been scant at best. Instead, Seikai had provided her with a list of the traitor's vices – gambling, alcohol, and women – and had sent her on her merry way. All things said, she held the older monk in almost as much contempt as the despised Miroku, but at least his information had led her where she was now, steadily closing in on her unsuspecting prey.

She made a brief stop to buy some food before leaving the village; she traveled light, carrying only enough provisions for a day at a time, and had not yet eaten lunch. Not that she would eat much anyway – she forced herself to consume what meager nourishment she had only because she needed to keep her strength up and not from any sort of hunger. Her insides still felt knotted up, and images of the slayers' village as she had found it – with the stench of death swathing the terrible carnage – often crowded into her mind in idle moments, chasing away every other feeling save an all-consuming grief.

Sango took refuge in her need for vengeance, firmly suppressing the images, telling herself that there would be time for grieving later.

As she climbed astride Kirara and headed away from this latest village, her mind immediately shifted to thoughts of her brother. Kohaku had been feverish when she had departed, his small body wracked with torment and delirium. It had nearly killed her to part with him, and she had only done so upon the assurance that he would receive the best care possible. Sango herself was next to useless in the sickroom anyway; she could do nothing for Kohaku but entrust him to more competent care and seek to avenge his injuries.

His welfare consumed her thoughts, though, and she found herself wondering if he had reached Kyoto yet. Lord Naraku had offered to take the boy there to be tended by healers, and Sango had agreed that it would probably be the best place for him. Kohaku's tenuous condition had needed some more time to stabilize before he could be transported such a distance, but even so, he should have arrived at the capital by now, to the best of her reckoning.

She briefly wondered if he was awake yet, if he would despise her for not staying there by his side.

She was no good in the sick room, she reminded herself, and time was of the essence here. Gritting her teeth, she urged Kirara to move quicker, intent upon completing her task as soon as possible and returning to her brother.

………

"You're certain he said his name was Inuyasha?"

"Yes, Hiten. Do you know the villain?"

Hiten wore a very disgruntled expression as he mulled over his younger brother's revelation. "But you weren't able to locate him the next morning?" he pressed, for the moment ignoring Manten's question.

"None of my men could find him. They questioned several of the townsfolk, but no one admitted to seeing him. He was dressed most peculiarly, so I'm certain his presence would stand out…"

"If any of the people felt loyal enough to you to cooperate," Hiten scoffed. "You haven't exactly inspired undying adoration, little brother. Did you offer a reward for information?"

Manten hesitated, rubbing one hand across his smooth, bald head. "No. Is this Inuyasha that important for you to find?"

"The only Inuyasha I ever knew is long dead," Hiten retorted, "which means someone else is using his name to hide behind."

His brother's face, though, had paled to an ashy, porridge-like color. "Y-you don't think… a ghost?" he ventured, obviously disturbed by the thought. Hiten raised one brow as though to question his sanity. "W-well," Manten defended his statement, "he did appear at night, and his weapon transformed before my eyes, and then he had disappeared by the next morning…"

"Don't strain yourself," his brother sneered. "I'm certain your opponent was flesh and blood, but I'm equally certain that he was not Inuyasha, as he claimed. For one thing, that halfling was pathetically weak, and for another, like I said, he's been dead for years. Why someone else would choose to use his name and come after you, though, I do not know. Doubtless he merely intends to stir up trouble."

"Doubtless," Manten murmured, still fixated on the unsettling idea of having battled a specter.

Hiten's eyes narrowed. "I don't need any more trouble at the moment. This business of Lord Sesshomaru's escape is bad enough – we still haven't recovered that ship, and I'm having to dodge questions from every government bureau I come across. I don't have time to deal with some imbecile prankster."

"Yes, Hiten," said his brother penitently. "I'm sorry. I'll take care of it."

The elder demon flipped his long braid of hair over one shoulder, expression turning malevolent. "I do know of one person who might find this development to be of interest, though," he admitted almost reluctantly. "I suppose I'll have to pay him a visit the next time I'm in his neighborhood, even if he did tell me not to bother him anymore."

………

"Oh, my! It looks as though you will live a long life and have many children!"

A giggled erupted from the young woman currently having her palm read, and a couple girls behind her twittered with mirth. The monk's feather-light touch on her hand turned speculative as he drew small circles with his index finger, causing the village girl's laughter to cease and a light blush to stain her cheeks.

"There could be dire consequences for delaying your destiny," he mused, lifting a suddenly intent gaze from her palm to her eyes. "I would be more than willing to assist you in getting started…"

Her eyes widened as her mind processed his words; then, a broad smile broke across her face. "You'll marry me and my fiancé?" she asked, enthused. "We were planning to travel to the nearest shrine, but…"

Miroku released her hand in dejection, hardly listening as she prattled on about her upcoming nuptials and how handsome her fiancé was. Of course the pretty ones were always engaged, he thought cynically. Although, perhaps he could convince her that she needed some practice in intimacy, so that she could please her future husband…

He was jarred from such speculation by several successive cries of indignation, and he looked up just in time to see the happily engaged village girl shoved out of the way, her presence replaced by an irate hanyou.

"What in seven hells do you think you're doing?" Inuyasha demanded, arms crossed and a scowl plastered on his face.

Miroku peered past him, to the line of girls that were chattering their outraged protests. "Now, now," he chided, "you can't just jump the line, Inuyasha. If you want your palm read, you're going to have to wait just like everyone else."

The half-demon grabbed the front of his robes and jerked him forward until they were nose to nose. "You're supposed to be gathering information, not hitting on all the unattached women in the area!"

"I resent that," the monk retorted. "Some of them are married!"

With a contemptuous snort Inuyasha released his hold and backed away. "You're going to get us into trouble," he adjured.

"It's just harmless fun," Miroku waved off his protests. "Besides, I'm making a bit of extra money as well." To prove his point, he jingled a small coin purse in front of the hanyou.

"That would be great if we were strapped for cash," came the sarcastic response, "but we're not. Seriously, Miroku…" His next words were cut short as one of the bolder girls elbowed him out of the way, taking her rightful place at the head of the line and shooting him a venomous glare in the process. She dropped a coin into the monk's hand and proffered her palm expectantly.

Inuyasha snapped his mouth shut, too shocked to protest.

"Sorry," Miroku shot him an insincere shrug. "Duty calls. Hmm," he intoned, turning back to his customer. "It looks as though you may have a man of the cloth as a lover…"

The hanyou shuffled away in disgust, rolling his eyes skyward and giving up his rebuke as a lost cause. No accounting for the gullibility of women, he thought bitterly, though he hoped none of their fathers or lovers caught wind of the monk's true intent.

The nameless village in which they currently resided was perfect, just small enough to be overlooked on most maps, but lying directly on a major traveling route that connected the north and south of the country. It was a veritable artery of news and gossip and had the added benefit of being inhabited by people that were still friendly and open to strangers. It was also devoid of any military personnel at the moment, deemed by the local magistrate to be too insignificant for a garrison. As such, the travelers were free to come and go without altercation.

They had been here less than a week, staying in an abandoned hut near the edge of town and gleaning what information they could from villagers and other travelers alike. Certainly, most of the current rumors had to do with Sesshomaru's return and the unrest in the northern districts where reported sightings of him abounded. The occasional passing merchant would recognize the name Naraku, though. The ones that weren't terrified out of their wits at the mere mention of it were able to give bits of information, which Inuyasha lapped up greedily, cataloguing away in his mind for future use.

Naraku, it seemed, had been vastly busy over the past decade, with a hand in most every branch of trade in the country. His residence in Kyoto had been confirmed by more than one source, and while Inuyasha was tempted to hie there straightway and shred the filthy bastard into ribbons, he suppressed these instincts in favor of the more sedate and often frustrating practice of information-gathering. Naraku had become extremely powerful, if the reports were anything to go by, and brash as he was, the inuhanyou was smart enough to know when he needed every possible advantage against his opponent.

Still, he spent most of his waking hours imagining how it would feel to shove Tetsusaiga through Naraku's gut – the dull, rusty form of Tetsusaiga, if he had any say in the matter. Not that he had managed to make the sword transform since his encounter with Manten…

He grumbled, stepping into the cool dimness of the one-room hut they currently occupied. The sword was just being stubborn, shutting off its power like that. He was almost tempted to get into another fight just to see whether that would trigger it again.

A high-pitched war cry shattered his thoughts, and a small body connected with the back of his head from above, fangs latching onto his scalp. A growl erupted from his lips as he pried the small kitsune off, ignoring the dull throb where the child had gnawed on him.

"What the hell, Shippo?" he demanded, dangling his attacker at eye level. "I told you to quit trying to ambush me!"

The small body wriggled from his grasp, dropping to the ground with a challenge in his glare. "This round goes to you, but the battle has yet to be won!" Shippo announced, but when he turned to scamper away, Inuyasha snatched the back of his shirt and held him aloft again.

"What gives?" he demanded. "You didn't have to come with us, you know. I save your sorry ass and this is the thanks I get?"

Shippo folded his arms in a sullen gesture and turned his gaze to the wall, muttering something under his breath.

"What was that?" Inuyasha demanded, lifting him a little higher.

Bright green eyes shifted back to the hanyou. "I said, it's _because_ you saved me that I have to defeat you!" He threw his hands up angrily. "Manten killed my pa! You defeated Manten! If I can defeat you, that means I'm the strongest, that I can defeat Manten too! But don't worry," he added generously. "I won't kill you when I defeat you."

"Oh, thanks," said Inuyasha dryly, dropping the child to the ground and moving forward to the fire pit. "So, did you do anything productive today, or did you just spend all morning perched above the doorway waiting for my return?"

"Patience is a warrior's virtue," Shippo sniffed. "Besides," he added, "it was only half the morning."

"And the other half?"

"I was here and there," the kit equivocated.

"And…?"

"That caravan of merchants you talked to earlier didn't like you asking about Naraku," he reported, flopping to the ground and drawing one finger across the dirt floor, tracing imaginary patterns. "They talked about you after you left, said you should leave well enough alone."

"Did they?" Inuyasha inquired, ears perking up with interest. As annoying as Shippo could be, he had his uses as well – his penchant for eavesdropping on private conversations, for example, came quite in handy.

"One of them said Naraku could have you killed if he hears you're asking about him," the kit nodded, disinterested.

"I'm already dead," Inuyasha muttered, a dark expression crossing his face.

"And another one started talking about some guy that lives near here that used to do business with Naraku… something '-kotsu' was his name…"

"What kind of business?" the hanyou asked sharply.

Shippo knew he held vital information, which is precisely why he gave a careless shrug and answered, "Dunno." Seeing Inuyasha tense and start forward, he added, "They didn't say much about him, just that he was 'in thick with Naraku back in the day,' whatever that means."

"What else?"

The kit sniffed disdainfully. "Don't you feel guilty, encouraging a little kid like me to spy on other people's conversations?"

"You'd do it even if I didn't encourage you," Inuyasha retorted. "Now what else did they say?"

"Just that the guy lives in a manor-estate to the west now because he got rich from being in bed with Naraku. If he's so rich, couldn't he afford his own bed?"

The hanyou grimaced slightly. "It's just an expression," he said, not wanting to over-analyze the literal meaning of the words. "It means they worked together closely."

"Oh. Does that mean you and Miroku are in bed together?"

"Hell, no!"

"Touchy, touchy," chided Shippo.

Inuyasha was two seconds away from pummeling the kit. Reigning in his temper, he took a deep breath and spoke slowly, careful to enunciate each word. "What else did they say about this man?"

"I already told you," the kitsune answered in a bored voice, dragging his finger through the dust in a circular motion. "Estate just west of here, some funny name I didn't quite catch, used to work with Naraku. Dig up the rest of the information yourself."

A long moment passed. Shippo continued scrawling in the dirt, tense beneath his calm façade as he waited to be punished for his impertinence. The punishment never came. Instead, Inuyasha stood, ruffling the kit's hair in the process.

"Good job," he commended in a curt voice as he passed to exit the hut. Thanks to the kitsune, he had a lead to go on now, and he intended to exploit it to its fullest.

With his back to the boy as he left, Inuyasha missed the faint, grateful smile that ghosted across Shippo's face.

………

Sesshomaru had been right to leave Rin behind, Totosai reflected. The youki in the atmosphere was dense as fog, and not in a refreshing, rejuvenating way, either. It was plain evil, soaked to the core with malice and insanity-inducing wrath. He felt it permeating his every pore, moving in and out of his lungs like a cloud of smoke rather than fresh mountain air.

"We're almost there, Lord Sesshomaru," one of the youkai guides announced. "It's just up ahead."

There were only a handful of them on this leg of the journey: Sesshomaru, Jaken, Totosai astride Momo, and three loyal youkai whose names the old blacksmith hadn't caught. Come to think of it, he wasn't even sure their names had ever been mentioned. Sesshomaru certainly knew who they were, and nothing else seemed to matter.

"What's just up ahead?" the ancient fire-breather queried, his voice petulant. "Don't you think after coming this far I deserve to know what it is we've come for?"

"Do you recall why I sentenced you to prison?" Sesshomaru returned his question with another.

Totosai snorted. "I wouldn't give you the sword you wanted. And I still say that you received a weapon worthy enough for you to bear!"

The dog demon raised one brow at this impudent comment but merely inquired, "And do you know why I stopped visiting you?"

"Because," said the swordsmith, having brains enough to suppress the chuckle that bubbled up in his throat, "you were overthrown and exiled."

"No."

That one threw him for a loop. "What to you mean, 'no'?"

Sesshomaru's attention was on the road, and his voice remained nonchalant. "I commissioned a new imperial swordsmith. I no longer had need of your services."

"You _what_?" Even Momo had stopped walking in shock, and both demons glared accusingly at the former emperor. Totosai had never felt more affronted in his life. A new swordsmith? To take _his_ rightful position? The position he had been expected to fulfill even from prison? The nerve! "And just who was this hack, someone I know?" he questioned sarcastically.

The regal youkai had not so much as paused, but his answer floated back to Totosai's ancient ears. "Your former pupil, Kaijinbo."

Well, that was the last straw. "K-K-Kaijinbo!" the blacksmith stuttered. "That disreputable… that unworthy, evil little… I dismissed him as my apprentice! His methods were corrupt, disgusting, inferior!"

"He was not your equal," Sesshomaru allowed, apparently unfazed by the heated fervor of Totosai's outburst. "He failed to produce anything worthy of this Sesshomaru prior to the revolution."

"So you're tracking him down to have him try again, is that it? I knew this mountain's awful stench had to come from somewhere!"

The former emperor's response was not what he expected. "Kaijinbo is dead," he stated flatly, and from the tone of his voice and the glare he threw over his shoulder, the conversation appeared to be closed.

Totosai stared at his retreating back, mouth agape, wondering why the hell his disgraced student's name had even been mentioned. If Kaijinbo was dead… He turned an inquiring eye upon one of the nameless youkai in their entourage, who merely motioned up the path and stated, "We're almost there."

With resignation, he urged Momo forward. He frowned as Lord Sesshomaru's figure ahead blurred momentarily then faded from view. As he approached the same spot, he noticed a ripple in the air and felt an intense concentration of energy before him. A barrier, he realized. It pressed into his skin as he passed through, almost as though it would crush him with its weight. He was half-surprised that it didn't send him flying back out onto the mountain, rejecting him all together.

A moment later, he wished that it had. The air within the barrier was stifling, choked with an evil that was almost miasmic in nature. Totosai had never experienced such concentrated malevolence; something within this area was producing a toxic aura, one that even the powerful barrier could not fully contain. The youki was seeping out of its confines, he realized; he had thought back on the mountain path that the atmosphere he felt was strong, not realizing that it was a mere trickle of the original source.

An aura this intense could possess a demon and drive him to frothing madness.

No sign of indigenous life existed here – no vegetation, no insects, nothing. The land was blasted, blighted into a barren waste. Even the rocks seemed to have suffered from corrosion, indicating that they had endured this condition for some time.

The source of the miasma was easily spotted. At the very center of the area, protruding from the ground like a pagan monument, stood a wide, heavy sword, the dark aura rolling off it in waves. It was not a traditional-style katana, but a double-edged broadsword, doubtless heavy, from the looks of it. Totosai easily recognized his former pupil's workmanship in the silhouette of the blade; Kaijinbo had always crafted his swords as a rather crude homage to strength and power, his work lacking a certain elegance, reflecting instead a weapon's brute ability to destroy. The material used in this blade's forging, Totosai reflected, must have come from a creature most malevolent. Knowing Kaijinbo, it had probably been treated further to enhance its corruption.

The fallen emperor stood next to the blade, his intent gaze fixed upon it. One hand visibly twitched, as though he longed to reach forward and claim the sword from its position in the earth. The rest of his entourage gathered to his side, Totosai alone hanging back with an expression of disgust etched into his wrinkled features.

Sesshomaru's voice cut through the tense atmosphere. "Speak."

One of the nameless youkai bowed submissively. "It is as we reported to our lord emperor. A demon of unmatched ferocity was captured and brought before the swordsmith Kaijinbo, who harvested its teeth to create the blade our lord now sees. The blade possessed him, causing him to fall into a murderous rampage that ended with his own death. The sword, the Tokijin, has remained here since that time, carefully guarded by your humble servants, awaiting your return."

The narrative appeared to satisfy Sesshomaru. Golden eyes speculative, he paced halfway around the sword, studying it from every angle. "Exactly how long ago was this?" he inquired at last.

"Nine years, seven months," came the prompt answer.

For another moment he examined the blade, eyes narrowed, calculating. Then, "Totosai," he spoke, voice authoritative.

The ancient demon snorted. "What?" he responded, belligerent.

Sesshomaru's gaze lifted to meet his. "What is your assessment of this weapon?"

Totosai's lips curled in disgust. "It's filthy. It should be destroyed."

"Is it soundly made?"

For a moment he was torn. Wounded pride demanded that he refuse to acknowledge the blade, his contempt for Kaijinbo called for him to denounce it, and instinct told him to destroy it. Beneath these negative feelings, though, cold logic quietly whispered for him to tell the truth. Sesshomaru had brought him all this way, clearly intent upon getting his opinion of the weapon, thereby showing a measure of faith in his abilities. His loyalty to the young emperor was threadbare at best, but to the ancient dynasty from which this scion had sprung, he held utmost devotion.

In the end, loyalty and logic won out. Sesshomaru would not listen to his temper tantrums anyway.

Sliding from Momo's back, he hobbled forward, fingers stroking his beard as his wide eyes played over the malevolent blade. He examined it from every angle, deigning not to touch it even as he noted that its edges were still razor-sharp despite the passage of time. All the while, he could feel Sesshomaru's gaze intent upon his every move.

At long last, he shook his head and stepped back. "The blade itself is sound," he admitted, "but the malice that possesses it makes it too dangerous to bear. It's no wonder Kaijinbo was overcome – the poor fool had no chance against something as evil as this. No one does."

Sesshomaru seemed to consider his words for a moment. Then, in a decisive movement, he extended one hand forward, grasping the hilt of the Tokijin.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Totosai gasped, stumbling backward as terror seized him.

The look the former emperor shot in his direction was not his typical cold disdain, but one of genuine irritation. "What do you take this Sesshomaru for?" he questioned, wrenching the sword from the ground.

Even as the swordsmith scrambled back in horror, the miasmic aura writhed, springing into a whirlwind of fury, a voiceless shriek engulfing the senses of all present. Totosai stared, shocked, as the concentrated haze of youki congealed around the imperial demon as though it would consume him in its depths. Nearby, Jaken screamed for his master's welfare, and one of the youkai guides cringed back, covering his face with a forearm.

The aura continued to collect, drawn to the sword and its new bearer, twisting and struggling as a creature deranged, a feral entity determined to destroy any that encroached upon its territory.

And then, quite suddenly, the tumult subsided. Totosai watched in open-mouthed awe as the terrible miasma suddenly vaulted in upon itself, channeling into the sword and vanishing entirely.

Fresh mountain air filled his lungs as he gaped at the sword and at the tall figure bearing it. Sesshomaru appeared as though not a single strand of hair had been ruffled out of place. He raised the blade, examining it in his grasp. A faintly discernable satisfaction flashed across his eyes, and the next moment, he tucked the sword into his belt – right beside Tenseiga, Totosai's mind dimly registered with indignation – and started back down the mountain trail as though nothing of great importance had occurred.

The guides fell into step quickly, and Jaken scurried after them, shouting praises of Lord Sesshomaru and his amazing power.

Totosai was left behind with Momo, a vague, uneasy sensation nesting in the pit of his stomach. "Momo," he said to the bull as he climbed astride its back, "suddenly I'm glad that we're on his side." And yet, deep down, he wasn't sure if that were true or not. What sort of individual could control such malevolence, he found himself wondering, eyes trained on the retreating back of the former emperor. More importantly, what sort of individual would seek to harness it, and for what purpose?

He wasn't certain he wanted to find out.

………

The trees blurred around him as he ran, his long, silver hair streaming back away from his face. His feet pounded the worn road, and occasionally he vaulted above the forest canopy to get his bearings straight. A glimpse of the surrounding country was all it took, and then he was back on the ground again, running at superhuman speed.

It had taken Inuyasha only a few well-placed inquiries to procure the information he needed. Naraku's former associate lived only half a day's journey to the west and seemed rather well-known to the surrounding communities. In fact, if the villagers' words were taken at face value, he was easily one of the wealthiest men in the district.

The hanyou felt a twinge of guilt as he progressed farther along the road; he had not told Miroku of this latest development. The monk doubtless would have wished to accompany him, having his own vendetta against Naraku to satisfy, but Inuyasha wasn't particularly in the mood for company at the moment. Besides, Miroku's presence would have delayed the journey a day – not only was the monk slower to travel, but he had said something about an exorcism he was to perform this afternoon, and Inuyasha had no desire to wait until tomorrow. This way, he could go and be back before nightfall.

Convincing Shippo to remain behind had been another task entirely. The kit had shadowed him while he made his inquiries, then attacked when he tried to leave.

"You're not coming with me," Inuyasha pronounced as he attempted to pry the child off his right leg. In his habitual fashion, Shippo had latched on, fangs and all.

"Mmph muh pfnmuphun!" growled the kitsune, mouth secured firmly around the flesh just above Inuyasha's knee.

"Come again?"

"It's my information!" Shippo yelled. The moment his fangs were no longer involved, he was ripped free of the hanyou's appendage and dangled in the air, kicking and thrashing.

"You're still not coming."

"Inuyasha," he wailed, voice pitched in plaintive whining, "that's not fair!"

"If you come with me, who's going to look after that idiot monk?" the half-demon replied, doing some hasty bluffing. "He can't be left here alone – he gets into too much trouble even when we're around."

"Then let me go by myself and _you_ stay behind!" Shippo suggested insolently, knowing that he was fighting a losing battle. The look Inuyasha shot him was enough to kill that proposition.

"Just stay here and keep an eye on Miroku," the hanyou commanded. "I won't be gone long, and I guarantee it'll be boring as hell anyway. I'm just going to ask the guy about his business dealings with Naraku, that's all. I'm counting on you to keep things here under control."

The kit had finally relented, grumbling under his breath as he was deposited back on the ground.

Inuyasha turned to leave but paused, casting over his shoulder, "You promise not to follow me?"

Shippo sulked in the dirt. "Yes, I promise. Just go already!"

Looking back on it now, Inuyasha wasn't so certain that setting the kitsune on Miroku's trail was such a good idea. The monk, after all, was prone to certain activities that would likely scar – or worse, corrupt – the small child. With any luck, he wouldn't do anything too disreputable during the broad light of day.

It was too late to worry about that sort of thing now, though. Keeping his focus forward, he doubled his speed, dust and leaves swirling in his wake.

………

The manor was larger than he had expected. It sprawled across a section of well-manicured grounds, and Inuyasha had to actively remind himself not to gape as he neared. A couple of sentries stood at the gate, briefly interrogating him upon his arrival. Their inquiries were shallow at best, with Inuyasha rattling off half-truths that they did not question.

One of them detached from his post, leading the hanyou toward the house. When they reached its cool confines, a well-groomed servant appeared and exchanged minimal conversation with the sentry, then took his charge from him. The sentry returned to the gate, and the servant politely bowed, then pivoted, heading farther inward. Inuyasha followed mutely, his mind racing with thoughts of the impending conversation, of how he could procure the information he wanted without raising the informant's suspicions. Miroku could have done it with ease, of course, but Inuyasha was hardly the cunning type when it came to words.

All too soon he was gestured into a small receiving room. "The master will be with you presently," the servant intoned, bowing politely before retreating from the room and sliding shut the paper door behind him.

For a small moment, panic welled in Inuyasha's throat, his mind barraged with the many ways this encounter could go wrong. He squelched the feeling, reasoning that he would have to wing it and hope for the best. After all, if worse came to worse and he completely botched the job, they could always send Miroku back in a couple weeks.

Just as he was beginning to wonder how long it would take this prospective informant to appear, his ears perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps in the hallway. Wary of betraying his inner turmoil, he turned a bored expression toward the door, looking uncharacteristically like his brother at that moment.

The shoji slid back.

"My, my, my," said a smooth tenor voice, "what have we here? An early birthday present?"

Inuyasha's brows knit together as he scrutinized the lord of the manor. The man was far more effeminate than he expected, tall but slender, wearing brightly-colored attire, with his hair pulled up loosely. Two vertical stripes – certainly his most distinguishing characteristic – marked his face, one running beneath each eye. Whether painted or tattooed on, Inuyasha could not discern. The man's expression held something in it that the hanyou didn't directly recognize either.

"My name is Takeshima," Inuyasha lied, punctuating the words with a polite bow. After the encounter with Manten, Miroku had stressed the importance of keeping his name to himself, to keep Naraku from catching wind of his return, thereby maintaining an element of surprise over the villain. Inuyasha had grudgingly agreed to the wisdom of this action, and they had run through several pseudonyms before settling on this one. The hanyou found it oddly fitting. "I have come to speak to you on certain important matters."

"I am Jakotsu," the master of the house replied, sauntering into the room and shutting the door behind him with a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Good-looking men are always welcome within my home. And what sort of _important matters_ bring you here?" He stressed the phrase as though to indicate a far deeper meaning behind it, quirking his lips into a smirk at the same time.

Realization was fast dawning in Inuyasha's mind. So _that_ explained the strange look. Suddenly his comfort level plummeted even further, one hand straying to the sword at his belt. Unbidden, thoughts of his earlier conversation with Shippo sprang to his mind.

"_He got rich from being in bed with Naraku. If he's so rich, couldn't he afford his own bed?"_

"_It's just an expression."_

…Or not? He suppressed a shudder, realizing that his host was waiting for an answer.

"I, uh," he started, his throat inexplicably dry, "I came to speak to you about some of your business dealings a few years back."

"Business is boring," his host purred, stepping forward. "Surely there's something far more interesting we can while away the time with…"

Instinctively he stepped back. "N-no, business is all I'm here to discuss," he affirmed. Jakotsu's lower lip jutted in a decided pout. "I've been out of the country for several years," Inuyasha hurried on before another protest could be made, "and I'm trying to reestablish with some old acquaintances." It wasn't really a lie – he _had_ been away from the main island, and he was trying to meet up with Naraku again, if only to pound the bastard into a slimy, pulpy puddle.

"Where have your travels taken you?" Jakotsu inquired as though trying to take interest in the subject, and failing.

"Just the mainland." Okay, so that was a lie. He braced himself, hoping against hope that he would not be required to elaborate.

For once fate seemed to be on his side. His host was no more interested in his so-called time abroad than he had been in the prospect of discussing business. Instead, Jakotsu motioned with a disgruntled little wave toward the low table, indicating that Inuyasha should sit. "Tea?" he inquired, then before the hanyou could answer added, "Yes, I think tea will be just the thing. We can get this drab business talk out of the way, then move on to more interesting things. Your ears are adorable, by the way."

The comment took Inuyasha completely by surprise, but before he could respond, Jakotsu lifted his hands and clapped sharply, causing the half-demon to bury his "adorable" ears in his mane of hair in reflex. His host either did not notice or else decided it would be impolite to indicate he had.

The shoji slid open to reveal a servant, a young woman plainly clothed. "What is it my master wishes?" she inquired in a subdued voice, immediately bowing before Inuyasha could catch a glimpse of her face. She had a familiar, feminine scent, one that tickled his nose and demanded he take notice. He reacted by pointedly ignoring her.

"Bring tea and refreshment, and be quick about it," Jakotsu commanded coldly. "Do not give me cause to punish you, girl." She rapidly retreated from the room to obey his order. With a put-upon sigh, he turned tortured eyes toward his guest. "Slaves can be such a nuisance," he complained. "I would get rid of them all, but then I'd be forced to fetch my own tea."

"Slaves?" Inuyasha repeated in revulsion.

"Oh, yes. I own every single person that lives here."

"But I thought the Republic put an end to slavery."

Jakotsu scoffed as though reacting to the misconception of a small child, but at least he had the grace to hide his smirk behind one well-manicured hand. "You really have been out of the country for some time, haven't you?" he commented, containing his mirth. "The slave trade is stronger than ever under the watchful eyes of the Republic. Certainly it was frowned upon for a period of time," he waved his hand airily, "but that was years ago."

Inuyasha's expression must have triggered suspicion within the effeminate landowner, because he added, "I'm surprised. Much of the trade takes place with the mainland – I would have expected someone who had lived there to be cognizant of it."

"It wasn't in my sphere of dealings," the hanyou answered, shrugging off his vaguely perturbed stupor. "I didn't pay attention to the slave trade over there."

"Hmm," said Jakotsu, ambiguous.

They sat in silence for a few moments; Inuyasha took the opportunity to run over possible questions he could ask and possible answers he would be expected to provide. His concentration was nicely shattered when his host suddenly leaned over the table and proclaimed, "Let's forget this business nonsense – two handsome men such as ourselves have much better things to be doing, wouldn't you agree?" A predatory smirk curved along his mouth, and as if to emphasize his words, he trailed one finger lightly up the hanyou's arm.

Inuyasha's reaction was instantaneous, self-preservation kicking in full force. "Hell, no!" he cried, recoiling from the touch. To his uttermost relief, the door opened once more, and the slave girl entered, balancing a tea tray on one arm. Under normal circumstances, he would have waited until she left again before continuing the conversation, but he wanted nothing more than to be out of this manor as soon as possible, so he plunged ahead despite the extra pair of ears.

"Look, I'm just trying to track down an old friend of mine and was told you might have his information – he goes by the name Naraku." It was all he could do not to infuse that name with loathing, but it seemed to hang in the air nonetheless, anathema uttered aloud.

A deafening crash shattered the atmosphere as the tea tray tumbled to the floor, the porcelain serving set breaking into a thousand pieces. Inuyasha's attention jerked over to the slave, who stood frozen just within the doorway, a wide-eyed expression on her stricken face. Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly, and his sensitive ears picked up the sound of her quickening breath and heartbeat.

"Oh dear," sigh Jakotsu with a note of resignation. "You said the N-word."

Then next instant a snarl crossed the girl's face, and she lunged for the hanyou. "That treacherous monster!" she screamed, her assault arrested at the last second by the swift reflexes of her master. "That lying, scheming, murderous, treacherous monster!"

Jakotsu struggled to keep her under control with a surprisingly strong hold which pinned both her arms to her side. The girl thrashed violently against him.

"Let me go! Let me go! I'll kill the murdering bastard!"

Inuyasha could only watch in mute fascination as the scene before him unfolded. The girl continued ranting and struggling, while Jakotsu called for some of his other servants to come quickly and assist him. And all the while in the back of the hanyou's mind was registering a faint buzzing, a tingling that prickled at the very edge of his senses.

_Was that a pink light gathering around the captive slave girl?_

It burst from her the next instant, a massive wave of energy that threw him backward, all the way across the room. He crashed into the wall and slumped to the ground, feeling as though he had been clobbered by the nastiest demon known to mankind. His mind dimly registered the sound of others entering the room, scrambling about to restrain the still rampaging girl, but it was almost as though he were listening to it through a thick padding. He felt weak, so very weak.

Eventually, the slave was dragged forcibly away by several of her peers, her cries of rage echoing down the hallway.

Inuyasha lifted his head up very slowly, an involuntary groan escaping his lips in the sudden quiet.

"And here I thought you couldn't get any more adorable," Jakotsu's smooth voice floated over to him, sounding distant in his ears.

He blearily peered up at his disheveled host, vaguely wondering what the hell he was talking about.

The effeminate man ambled over to where he was sprawled, bending to look him in the eyes. "You're very lucky you're a hanyou, you know," he commented with a sly smile. "If you had been youkai, you'd probably be dead."

Inuyasha frowned up at him momentarily before his eyes strayed down to his own hands. He was met with the sight of ordinary human fingernails. "What the—" he started, jerking fully upright as he snatched a fistful of his hair and stared down at it in dumb astonishment. Black. Black as night, black, black, black.

He was human.

"What the hell just happened?" he demanded, mystified.

"I'm afraid my slave Kagome just purified your youki," Jakotsu answered, proffering a hand to help him from the ground. "I imagine it's only temporary, but if not, well, it's all the same in a dimly-lit bedroom."

He had accepted the man's assistance but now jerked his hand away in horror. "I don't swing that way," he declared, quickly retreating to the other side of the room. "And how the hell did your slave manage to purify me?"

"Kagome has certain spiritual powers, but she can't control them very well," the man drawled as though this were an everyday occurrence. "They tend to manifest themselves when she becomes angry, and unfortunately for you, she becomes very angry whenever the name Naraku is mentioned."

"Why?" Inuyasha demanded, his interest suddenly piqued.

Jakotsu shrugged negligently. "I never bothered to ask. Perhaps it's because he's the man who sold her to me."

………

**A/N: Hmm. As is true to his character, Myoga seems to have disappeared. Honestly, I don't know where he went, but I'm not terribly worried about it at the moment. Is that bad?**

**Also, there was another scene after this, but I decided to chop it off and save it for the next chapter, because I'm mean. …Actually because it gives me a jump on the next chapter. We all know I need it.**

**Since my last update on this fic, _forever ago_, ff-dot-net has outlawed in-chapter review responses. I think I can still get away with thanking people by name, though. So to Silence-Darkness, Nokomarie the Snake, Kyia Star, Lavender Valentine, priestessmykala, and Murasahki-chan, thank you all so much for taking the time to hit that little review button. Your comments are greatly appreciated.**

**And finally, since I'm rambling, I should mention that I just started grad school this semester. Normally I'd say that this would put quite a damper on my creative writing projects (fanfic, most notably, since the original fic is not seeing the light of day for now), but as it turns out, I have a five-hour break between classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and the bus system here is so stilted that it's not worth my while to go home and come back. Homework comes first, but to be honest, my academic attention span is nowhere near five hours long. So… we'll see what we can do. With any luck, it won't be another ten months before Chapter Fifteen surfaces.**

**Happy reading, everyone!**

**-Tish**


	15. A Bargain In The Making

**Disclaimer: _InuYasha_ is the intellectual property of Rumiko Takahashi, and _The Count of Monte Cristo_ is a product of the brilliant mind of Alexadre Dumas. I own rights to neither and am writing this story for my own twisted amusement, not for profit. **

………

_Rising Sun_

Chapter Fifteen – A Bargain In The Making

………

The girl huddled into a tight ball, sobbing quietly. It had taken four male servants to restrain her; they had finally bound her hands behind her back, then promptly dragged her to her room in the slaves' quarters. Now, locked within the tiny, spartan cell, she allowed herself to sink even deeper into misery, her thin frame quaking and shuddering with every labored breath.

She hadn't put up much of a fight after that initial burst of power. In truth, she hadn't had the energy to fight, feeling immediately exhausted, as though she had tapped into her very life-force in that brief moment.

The master would surely punish her for fighting against him, for attacking his guest.

And Kagome didn't care in the least. She curled in tighter, wishing her arms were free to hug her knees to her chest, rage again welling up within her at the mere thought of that single hated name.

_Naraku_.

It had been ages since she had heard that cursed word spoken aloud, ages since she had allowed it even to pass through her thoughts. Time had done nothing to lessen her hatred, though. One casual mention was enough to stir up past memories firmly repressed, and the emotions that went along with those memories were as fresh as ever, like a wound left open.

He was a _monster_.

The door to her room abruptly slid open, and her eyes flew up in astonishment as she regarded two of her fellow slaves. Their faces were drawn tight, whether in concern or contempt she did not know. Jakotsu tended to keep the male and female servants separate, vastly favoring the former. Women were grossly inferior here, barely above the animals; she expected no compassion.

"The master has summoned you," one of the slaves spoke in a neutral voice, deigning not to meet her eyes.

Kagome sat up, aghast with open horror. It had been only a few scant minutes since she had been forcefully flung into her chamber. There was no way possible that Jakotsu's temper had simmered.

She was in for the beating of her life.

"Come," said the other servant needlessly. Both had already stepped forward to drag her from the room. Resistance was pointless; instead, she allowed herself to be pulled to her feet, cooperating enough to trudge between the two men even as fear gripped her heart in a fierce struggle. She had seen what Jakotsu could do when blinded by rage.

As they neared the front of the house, she heard the telltale sound of arguing. "Just give me a damned starting price so I can haggle you down!" a male voice rang through the thin walls. It sounded like the same demon she had injured. What was _he_ still doing here? The thought chased through her mind that perhaps she would be forced to kneel at his feet and apologize; he seemed like he might be someone important, not that she cared.

"And what if my asking price doesn't involve money?" _That_ was Jakotsu, obviously.

"Stop leering at me like that, you pervert! I'm not offerin' you anything else!"

Her master clicked his tongue in disappointment. "Such a pity."

The servants next to her paused momentarily, and Kagome fleetingly wondered whether she should make a break for it. She wouldn't get farther than the front gates, of course, as prior experience had taught her, but it might still be worth a shot…

"What is it you want from me? Besides _that_!"

"Hmm…" Jakotsu seemed to be pondering the question rather deeply, especially for him.

The two servants exchanged glances, then one calmly slid the door open. Kagome squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and obediently followed them into the room. Not more than two steps forward, she froze, staring wide-eyed at the man sitting across from her master.

This was no demon. He was human. But she had been so sure...

"Kneel before your master, slave," Jakotsu's voice rang out in steely tones.

Immediately she dropped to her knees, pressing her forehead to the ground in a sign of subservience. She knew better than to speak unless bidden, especially when she was already in so much trouble.

"Now where were we?" his silky voice continued, turning back to his guest.

"You were about to tell me your asking price."

She had been certain that voice belonged to the demon previously here. But how could he possibly be human now? Unless… a _hanyou_? she silently wondered. She had heard of such things before, but never had she encountered one. And if that were the case, her power must have purified his demon half. Curious. She was tempted to raise her head from the ground just to catch another glimpse of him, though she knew better than to actually follow through with this urge.

Caught up in her own inward musings, she had lost track of their conversation. Her attention jerked back to it now as the guest suddenly shouted, "You sick bastard! There's no way in hell!"

"I don't think it's asking too much," Jakotsu retorted, sounding a little miffed. "After all, a virgin slave girl is quite valuable."

"I don't give a damn if she's a virgin or not! She could be sleeping with your entire household, for all I care!"

Kagome's eyes shot wide open as she realized at last that they were speaking of _her_. She stared at the wood grains of the floor directly in front of her eyes, her heartbeat quickening in sudden terror. She had never considered the possibility of being sold, but it struck her now in a wave of anxiety. Life as Jakotsu's slave was no picnic, sure, but at least his _preferences_ had kept her from having to perform any really unsavory duties. The men of the house did not get off so easily, and she had heard from other slaves that such arrangements were common in many households. Even facing terrible punishment as she now was, she had no real desire to leave this relative safe-haven. Yet, if her master was angry enough, perhaps he really would get rid of her.

"Well now, I have to say," Jakotsu's voice argued, "whether or not she's a virgin does make quite a difference in the confines of your private chambers."

"Lay off it, you pervert!" the hanyou pronounced. "That's not what this is about! Would you just give me a _monetary_ price already?"

She could hear the smirk in Jakotsu's resulting grunt and could only imagine the expression on his face. He enjoyed watching his guest get so flustered, probably enjoyed it just a little too much. But even the effeminate landowner knew not to cross certain boundaries.

"Fine, then," he shrugged. "If we're talking only as a matter of money…" The sum that then fell from his lips was exorbitant, even Kagome knew that. She felt her clenched muscles relax as a feeling of security washed over her. No one would pay such a high price for a slave, virgin or otherwise. Jakotsu apparently didn't mean to sell her after all.

"Feh. Is that all? Agreed." Coins jangled as a sack full of money hit the table.

Kagome's head snapped up from the floor before she so much as thought to restrain herself. Wide blue eyes rested on the dark-haired man who had just agreed to buy her for an inordinate amount of money. He didn't appear in the least put out by having to pay so much. In fact, he seemed almost relieved.

Jakotsu, on the other hand, looked as though he had just swallowed a bug – a large, squishy one.

"Do you need to count it?" his guest prompted impatiently.

The words jarred him from his stupor, and he reached forward one halting hand to tip the bag over, spilling an array of specie across the table. Kagome did a double take at the amount that tumbled out of the bag - even at a glance she could tell that it was more than Jakotsu had requested.

"Keep the change," her new owner instructed, fluidly rising. "You, girl," he addressed her, and she felt a certain amount of shock that he actually looked her in the eyes rather than talking down to her as Jakotsu always did. "Do you have any belongings you need to gather, or are you ready to leave?"

Fear paralyzed her, her mouth opening but nothing more than a strangled sound making its way out. Her new owner cocked his head slightly, waiting for her to answer him.

"Kagome!" Jakotsu's harsh tone jerked her from her stupor, and her eyes immediately shifted to where he sat. "Fetch your things and be gone. You belong to Takeshima now, and you will obey him as you have obeyed me, or suffer the consequences." One of the male slaves jerked her to her feet, pulling her out of the room, back to her own tiny chamber to collect her meager possessions.

Inuyasha turned to his host with a disgruntled gleam in his dark eyes. "Was that really necessary?" he demanded.

Jakotsu, though, merely shoveled his money back into its sack. "Just take her and be gone," he snarled, having lost all semblance of a genial host.

………

Miroku scowled down at the road as he walked, his foul mood by no means assuaged by the heavy clink of coins in his pocket. The exorcism had gone as planned, and he had been well paid for his services. At the moment, that money did nothing to ease the rancor eating at him, though.

"_That stupid Inuyasha's gone off to get some information about Naraku and left us both behind."_

Shippo's announcement earlier that day had taken him off-guard; he hadn't been told of any promising leads, and the fact that Inuyasha had left on his own to chase one rankled within him. He should have been at least consulted. Hell, he should have been the one to go if travel was required. That idiotic hanyou was sure to get himself caught by some military patrol.

Shippo had been sulking when he relayed the message, that much was apparent, but Miroku couldn't help but resent that a mere child had been privy to this latest development before he was. Granted, the monk and Inuyasha were more cooperating with one another than actually working together, but of the two of them, Miroku had far more vested interest in finding the black-hearted Naraku. His very life depended on it.

Muttering a crude insult under his breath, he stabbed his staff into the ground as he walked back toward the small village. As he rounded a curve in the road, his thoughts darted over all the choice phrases he was going to deliver to the hanyou upon his return. If Inuyasha thought he could just take off without a word…

The monk halted in his steps, quite suddenly aware of the stillness around him. It was eerily quiet, he realized, mind crashing back to the here-and-now. The road was deserted enough, but on top of that, no sounds issued from the nearby rise of trees that marked the edge of a wide forest. The birds had stopped singing and no animals rustled among the tall grasses, almost as though they had advanced warning of something terrible to come.

He felt a slight stirring of wind and suddenly dove to one side; a gust of air whistled from above as something large and deadly passed through the spot his head had so recently occupied. He jerked his gaze up just in time to see the object circle back the way it had come, and his eyes nearly popped out of his skull. It was the largest boomerang he had ever seen, easily six feet in length with a razor sharp edge to it.

Scrambling to his feet, he whirled to witness the weapon as it was caught one-handed by… a woman? He blinked and shook his head as though to clear his vision, even as his hands tightened around his staff. The woman still stood there, not twenty paces away, weapon slung casually over one shoulder as though it were no heavier than a coat or a flimsy shawl. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, its dark lengths gently wafting in the faint wind, and her clothing was black and scandalously close-fitting, with a metal mask covering most of her face. Only her eyes could be seen, eyes full of hatred, and rage, and such violent passions…

"I must be dreaming," Miroku murmured in pure bliss, his previous ire forgotten.

"You should not have dodged that," the mystery woman spoke, her voice stringent and toneless. "Your death could have been quick and painless." With no further warning, she hurtled her weapon forward a second time.

The monk jumped out of the way once more, avoiding by a few mere inches the loss of one of his limbs. The boomerang veered slightly off course, crashing through a couple of trees before returning to the warrior's hand. With a slight pang of unease, Miroku noted how cleanly it had sliced through the thick wood.

"To what do I owe this honor?" he inquired flippantly, his grip tightening around his staff once more.

"I've come to avenge my people," his attacker announced. "Hiraikotsu!"

As he lunged aside a third time, he wracked his brains, trying to figure out whom he could have offended so deeply as to warrant a death mark on his head. No one leapt to the forefront of his mind. Sure, he had groped his fair share of ladies in the past few weeks, but it was all in good fun. No one would want to kill him for something like that.

"Listen!" he called out in a placating voice. "I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement, if we just talk things out! I'm always willing to strike a bargain with a beautiful woman!"

"I don't bargain with traitors," came the flat response.

Miroku's mind raced through a million thoughts at once, the foremost of which being that he was at a serious disadvantage. The woman's boomerang gave her a long-range attack while his own strengths of combat were closer, hand-to-hand maneuvers. He had to get rid of her weapon somehow in order to tip the scales in his favor. She seemed to have total control over the ungainly object, though, as if it were an extension of her body.

Dodging her attacks would prove too exhausting to keep up for long. He didn't have time to hesitate. So, he did the first thing that came to mind. He dropped his staff and gripped the rosary that warded his right hand. _Desperate times_, as the old saying went…

She swung her hand in a powerful, downward arc, heaving the boomerang over her shoulder with an enraged war cry. Miroku threw himself out of the way, landing on his back and wrenching the strand of beads from his wrist. He felt the wind tunnel in his palm open with a howl of fury, pulling at everything within its path. The sudden upheaval disrupted the air just enough to send the deadly boomerang off course and crashing into the forest.

"No!" a strangled cry erupted from the woman. She made a startled move in the direction of her fallen weapon, only to discover that her path was blocked. Miroku had already resealed his cursed hand and snatched up his staff, leaping forward to confront his opponent.

"You call me a traitor?" he demanded as she fell back a step.

"You unleashed a monster on this land!" she snarled in return, ripping a sword from her belt and casting the sheath aside.

He parried her initial blow with his shakujou, wincing slightly as her blade bit into the hard wooden handle. After a few similar strokes, he realized that her strength didn't reside merely in long-range weapons. His staff was becoming nicked and scarred, and her movements were increasingly difficult to block.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Miroku avowed. "There were plenty enough monsters on this land before I came along."

"Sesshomaru," she hissed, emphasizing the single word with a particularly forceful blow. "You're the monk that set him free!"

A stony mask fell across his face at the accusation. The only people that knew of that particular connection between him and Sesshomaru were his fellow monks from Nishi-no. By now they would have reported to their superiors, which meant that the government had sent this woman to kill him. Suddenly his defense picked up, his fighting becoming much more efficient.

"I find I prefer Lord Sesshomaru to the monsters currently in charge," he drawled, blocking her sword with one end of his staff, then swiping the other in an attempt to catch her behind the knees. She leapt out of the way, eyes blazing at his words.

"That monster murdered my kinsmen!" she growled, tense with rage. She sprang forward to attack again. Miroku still had a few tricks up his sleeves, though. At her next thrust, he shifted his own weapon, catching her blade in the brass circle that adorned the top of the staff. Flipping the handle to one side, he ripped the sword from her grasp and sent it flying. His follow-up met with empty space; she reacted too fast, vaulting backward, flinging some tiny pellets at him as she retreated.

A burst of acrid gas erupted from the projectiles, and Miroku immediately covered his mouth with one sleeve, his eyes burning and watering. The stench was overpowering, though; he crumpled to his knees, coughing into the black folds of cloth. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw her approach—graceful, languid, and completely unaffected by the tainted air, her mask fully protecting her lungs.

"You deserve death," she stated firmly, "though spilling your blood won't bring any of my people back to life. A traitor like you doesn't deserve to live, not when so many others are dead because of you."

He continued to cough as she drew nearer, completely exposed to any blow she might deliver. His would-be executioner hovered over him, drawing a small dagger from her waist. The moment she raised her newest weapon to strike, Miroku swiped his staff at her legs. She tumbled flat on her back, dagger clattering from her grip, and he promptly ripped the mask from her face, her subsequent gasp drawing in a lung full of toxic air.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he stated firmly, pinning her body to the ground with his own as she choked on that first breath. His lungs still burned, but he had not been nearly as affected as he had appeared. Even now, the wind was dissipating the fumes from around them, and his breathing became easier with each passing moment. "I'm not aware of being responsible for _any_ deaths."

Even with her ragged gasps for air, she was able to turn her lips into a snarl. "Your _master_ slaughtered my entire village!" she spat, struggling against him.

Miroku, for one, didn't so much mind his position on top of her. However, he did take umbrage at her choice of words. "I don't have a _master_," he clarified with a stern set to his jaw, "and the one I choose to follow hasn't performed any massacres that I'm aware of. He's too busy preparing for a war against the true monsters of this land. Now who sent you after me?"

A sneer alighted upon her pretty face.

"Who?" he demanded. "If Sesshomaru slaughtered your village, you must come from the north, where he is…"

Sheer instinct alone saved his fingers from being sliced off. He had been holding her forearms down but jerked his hands away as he felt something shift beneath her sleeves, and not a moment too soon. Twin blades tore through the dark fabric, springing out from where they were attached to her wrists.

The monk snatched up his staff and rolled away as she swiped at him, coming to one knee even as his assailant leapt to her feet. He had not been quick enough this time. One of the blades had slashed across his left arm; he could feel the warm blood seeping out onto his sleeve.

"My village is not in the north," the warrior corrected him, her voice filled with scorn. "Sesshomaru sent a horde of lesser demons to annihilate it."

She flew toward him and he blocked a strike from the left, then the right, his arm flaring up in pain even as his mind raced over this new information.

"I don't believe you," he flatly declared as he defended himself. "Lesser demons would have left a path of destruction in their wake, especially traveling such a distance. I would have heard something about it before now."

The comment caught her off-guard; she paused in her attack long enough for Miroku to put some distance between them, his staff ever at the ready. The girl's lips pursed together, her eyes flashing defiance.

"I saw them with my own eyes," she snarled.

"Sesshomaru is still organizing his followers," the monk countered. "He couldn't have attacked your village."

The battle was starting to take its toll on him, the wound on his arm bleeding quite freely now and making him feel lightheaded. His opponent, on the other hand, seemed energetic enough to continue on for some time yet. And while part of him admired such stamina—especially in a woman—another part insisted that reasoning with her was fast becoming his only option. His continued denial to her accusation, however, seemed only to enrage her all the more.

"He's a cold-blooded killer," she declared, lunging forward. He positioned himself to block her strike, but she swung her arm just a hair shy, the wrist-blade crossing in front of his staff without touching it. The move was calculated; in the same fluid movement, she hooked her weapon around the shakujou, jerking it out of the way as her other fist swept in from the opposite side, connecting with his face.

Miroku slammed backward, his staff ripped from his grip as he skidded across the ground. Lucky for him, it had been a direct hit; the blade curving from her wrist would have killed him in the follow-through otherwise.

As it was, he was left prostrate and weaponless. She had already cast away his staff and was leaping toward him, death in her eyes; one hand scrambled for his last defense even as time seemed to slow to a standstill.

Suddenly, an explosion of color erupted between the two.

"Fox Fire!" Shippo crowed, landing on Miroku's chest and pelting the black-clad assailant with a series of illusions. The element of surprise worked in his favor, causing the girl to stumble back. Her ankle twisted sharply, and a cry escaped her lips as her leg buckled beneath her.

"Multiply!" the kit yelled, and suddenly five Shippos vaulted through the air and tackled the girl. Miroku sat up to watch her struggle against them, his hand absently seeking out the wound on his arm. His sleeve was wet with blood, warm and sticky.

Shippo had the upper hand for only a moment. A roar and a burst of flames dissipated his clones and sent him tumbling back next to the monk, his fur singed and faintly smoking. Between them and the warrior, a large demon cat materialized, its two tails flicking and its fangs bared.

"Kirara," the girl pronounced in a strangled whisper, and Shippo jumped to his feet, readying for another attack.

The demon cat growled and the warrior gingerly arose. For a tense moment, the four occupants of the clearing stared at one another, each waiting for someone else to make the first move. Then, the girl stepped forward and promptly gasped in pain as she placed her weight on her twisted ankle. The cat was at her side in an instant, and she collapsed across its back, levering herself up into a sitting position even as the demon's feet left the ground in a trail of flames.

"This isn't over," her voice carried down to the two remaining, her tone adamant even as she retreated.

The monk watched her go, feeling the truth of her words. It wasn't over. The two of them would meet again, he knew. And if this first encounter was anything to go by, the next time they battled one of them would end up dead.

"Geez, Miroku!" Shippo declared as the mystery assailant receded into the clouds. "Can't you take care of yourself against one measly girl?"

Miroku, though, wordlessly struggled to his feet, crossing to retrieve his staff from where it lay in the grass. He turned back to the road, leaning against the staff as he trudged forward, his eyes set on the horizon. Vaguely did his mind register the kit falling into step beside him.

As the village came into sight, he finally broke his silence. "How long were you there, Shippo?" he inquired quietly.

The kitsune sniffed and averted his eyes. "Inuyasha told me to keep an eye on you," he said, avoiding the question. "I didn't think you'd be overpowered by a girl."

So, the monk concluded, he had been there all along, stepping in only at the last moment. Miroku's right fist clenched within its glove, the crisscross of prayer beads hard against his palm. The void in his hand was always his last resort, the trump he didn't want to play. And he had been a split-second away from opening it back then.

For a brief moment he loathed himself, loathed the coward within that wished to live at any cost. He immediately squelched the feeling, though. There was no room for such qualms, not when his life's purpose was to rid himself of his cursed hand. He would do everything in his power to remain alive to accomplish that goal, even if it included using that curse as a weapon against a fellow human. Still…

"Thank you, Shippo," he murmured.

The kit peered up at him for a long moment, deliberating whether to question the monk's gratitude. In the end, he simply shrugged. "It was nothing."

………

Kagome's possessions consisted of a pair of sandals and a hair ribbon. Additionally, she had been stripped of the attire that marked her as a servant of Jakotsu and given a plain linen yukata to wear instead. The entire process took precious little time, although one of the women from the kitchen was also kind enough to press a small, cloth-wrapped slice of bread into her hands as she was led back to the front of the house where her new master waited. She slipped it up one sleeve, not wanting to risk this Takeshima confiscating it from her, not knowing when her next meal would come.

Jakotsu was nowhere in sight; instead, her new master stood by an open door, impatiently waiting as though he wanted nothing more than to be gone from this place. His gaze shifted in her direction as she approached, and his eyes widened fractionally. Then, he whipped his attention forward, striding out the door with a curt command for her to follow. Kagome mutely fell in step behind him, wondering what had caused that particular reaction, and what it might mean for her.

They made a beeline for the gate, and as they passed through, she allowed herself one last, wistful glance over her shoulder. She was scared, that much she could admit to herself. And yet, beneath that, part of her buzzed with an odd excitement. She did not know why Takeshima had purchased her, but he had said he was friends with Naraku, and if he was looking for the villain, sooner or later she might get her chance at vengeance. She would just have to be patient, to endure whatever situations were presented to her in the meantime.

In truth, she had never anticipated this opportunity, had never thought Jakotsu would sell her, even. When she had been younger she had tried running away to seek her revenge, only to be caught and punished at every attempt. Time had taught her the wisdom of remaining in Jakotsu's household – what, after all, did she know of living in the world? – and as such she had become resigned to her lot in life. But now, suddenly a world of possibilities opened to her. She simply had to survive long enough.

…This demon had not purchased her to, perhaps, devour her, had he? It would have been a very expensive meal, she reasoned as the thought crossed her mind. Perhaps he meant to punish her for her attack on his person. Of course, that would probably have to wait until his youki returned, _if_ it returned…

"Hey," he abruptly spoke when they were some hundred paces beyond the gates, "don't wear your hair like that."

The command took her by surprise, her hand straying to the ribbon tying back her dark tresses. "It is as my master wishes," she automatically murmured, pulling free the binding and wrapping it around one wrist so as not to lose it.

He whirled on her then, a scowl on his face. "And another thing," he added. "None of this 'my master' shit, got it?"

Kagome frowned. Jakotsu fairly thrived on the "my master" appellation, and she had assumed that this was a universal trait of slave-owners. Still, she responded nonetheless, "Yes, Lord Takeshima."

"Oh, now that's even worse!" he declared, recoiling in horror. "Look," he started to shake a finger at her, then paused, peering over her shoulder. Kagome instinctively turned to view the manor-gates in the distance, and the two sentries staring right back at them. "C'mon," her new master growled, snatching her arm and pulling her further down the road.

She tripped along behind him, wondering what sort of nut-job she had just been sold to.

Inuyasha, for his part, simply wanted to get beyond the immediate influence of Jakotsu's estate. Then, he could extract from this girl all the information she had on Naraku and send her on her merry way. Her presence was unnerving him.

It was bad enough that her scent had reminded him of Kikyo, back when his senses had been heightened enough to notice such a thing, but did she really have to bear such a close physical resemblance to her as well? When she had emerged from the servants' quarters with her hair tied back, he had nearly suffered a heart-attack. Prior to that he had simply assumed that the resemblance was slight, a product of his cursed mind playing tricks on him, and he had ignored it. He hadn't seen Kikyo in years, after all, and with the recent news of her marriage, perhaps it was only natural for him to project her image on other young women.

With her hair pulled back as Kikyo had always worn it, though, the slave-girl was almost a dead-ringer. Either he was truly going insane, or the gods were once again laughing themselves senseless at him.

He needed to get the required information from her and get as far away from her as possible, he decided.

A quick glance over his shoulder showed him that the gates were beyond view, hidden by a bend in the road. He plunged into the cover of the forest, pulling the girl behind him. "Look," he said as he led her further into the trees, "I just want to ask you some questions about your previous owner. Then you're free to go."

Kagome dug in her heels at that last statement. "Free to go?" she echoed as her new master turned to see why she had quit walking.

"I don't do this whole 'slave' thing," he scowled.

"Free to go _where_?" she demanded, her expression mirroring his.

Inuyasha stepped back, confused. "What? I don't know. Wherever you want – that's not my concern."

"Not your concern?" she repeated. "You bought me from Jakotsu just so you could ask me a few questions? And then you're just going to abandon me? To what?"

"T-to freedom," he answered dumbly. Wasn't that what every slave wanted?

Her hands were shaking as reality confronted her full-force. "I-I don't know the first thing about freedom," she stated in a hollow voice, feeling the truth of every word. She had no money, no clue which direction to travel, no idea how to make her way alone in the world. "If all you had were questions for me, you should have asked them and left me in Jakotsu's household."

Inuyasha snorted. "Crazy wench. I couldn't very well ask you anything with Jakotsu standing right there."

She cast a resentful glare at him. "Since he's the one you want information on," she concluded dourly.

"No, I don't give a damn about _him_," the hanyou-turned-human waved one hand. "I want to know about your master before Jakotsu, about Naraku." He pronounced the name tentatively, bracing himself for another angry reaction.

Sure enough, she stiffened, her face twisting with hatred. "Get this straight," she leaned forward, boldly poking him in the chest, "Naraku was _never_ my master. _Never_."

That one threw him for a loop. "But Jakotsu said…"

Kagome didn't wait to hear what he would say, huffing and stalking off into the trees. To hell with all her fears – she'd find her own way somehow and wipe that scheming murderer from the planet.

"Hey!" Inuyasha cried, bounding after her. "Where the hell do you think you're going, wench?"

"You said I was free," she retorted over her shoulder.

He snatched at her arm, whirling her to face him. "Not until after you answer my questions, you're not."

She glanced down at his grip on her, then shrugged out of it. "Naraku took everything from me," she pronounced bitterly. "Your _friend_ destroyed my life."

"That makes two of us," Inuyasha shot back. "And he was never my _friend_," he added, voice filled with loathing. "When I get my hands on that filthy bastard, he'll wish he was never born."

The two of them stood appraising each other for a long moment before Inuyasha shook his head and stated, "You really are one crazy wench. One minute you're yelling at me for wanting to set you free, and the next you're heading off into the forest on your own. Do you even know which direction you're heading?"

She didn't bother responding, her eyes narrowing in a glare.

He was less patient than usual. "Dammit, just tell me what you know about Naraku already!"

Kagome frowned. As any captive creature, she had felt the need to test her new bonds as far as they would stretch, and much to her surprise she had discovered that the bonds weren't really even there. As far as her new master was concerned, they seemed to be on equal footing so far. And of course, years of slavery couldn't prevent her from pushing her luck just a little further.

"In exchange for what?" she inquired flatly, crossing her arms in a flippant stance. If she had tried this sort of thing with Jakotsu, she'd have been whipped and had her next three meals withheld. This Takeshima was different, though.

Inuyasha scowled. "In exchange for your freedom, wench."

"I've already told you freedom's worthless to me," she retorted, "and I have a name."

"Yeah? Congratulations, that makes two of us."

The furrow between her brows deepened. "You already told me I couldn't call you Takeshima," she protested.

"Well that ain't my name," he responded, folding his hands into his wide red sleeves.

"But…"

"It's Inuyasha," he supplied before she could voice her confusion. "So what is it you want in exchange for your information?"

Kagome blinked, surprised at how easily he seemed to give in. "I want revenge," she stated simply, as though this should have been a logical conclusion for him.

"Then I'll kill Naraku for you," he said, flinging his hands in the air. "Hell, I was planning on it anyway!"

She stepped back, coolly assessing him. As he was, he didn't look like much of a threat. Plus, there was always the chance that he was lying to her, that he was truly friends with Naraku and wanted to extract this information from her for some unknown, sinister purpose. He _seemed_ genuine enough, though, and she had other, more important worries to consider than some vast conspiracy theory. "Take me with you," she commanded at last.

"What?" Inuyasha recoiled. "What the hell kind of slave are you, giving orders to your master?"

"Quit talking about sending me off on my own, and I'll tell you everything I know about Naraku. You say you're going to kill him? Well, I want to be there to see it."

The flat tone of her voice put him on edge. "What did he do to you?" he inquired, not certain he wanted to hear the answer anymore.

"Yes or no?" she prompted, not budging an inch.

"Listen, wench—" His words broke off in a yelp as her hand suddenly darted forward to yank on one of his forelocks.

"My name is Kagome. Ka-go-me. Not 'wench.' Got that?"

Inuyasha dislodged his hair from her fist and stepped back. "Look," he started, pointedly _not_ using her name, "you don't want to come with me. I don't keep good company. In fact, right now I'm traveling with a lecherous monk and an obnoxious little…" His voice abruptly caught in his throat as images of Shippo surfaced, particularly the runt's penchant for dive-bombing him every time he thought Inuyasha was off-guard.

"Yeah, okay, you can come along," he immediately changed his tune. "In fact, I have the perfect job for you."

Kagome eyed him warily. "Really?"

"Yep. So spill already."

She was still skeptical, though. "You promise you're not going to ditch me the first chance you get?"

"I swear it on my ancestors' graves," he retorted with a roll of his eyes. "Now, are you going to talk, or not?"

The girl hesitated, twisting the end of one sleeve as she briefly glanced around, noting in particular the waning light of day. "It's kind of a long story. Is the… are we… headed someplace close?"

His expression flattened, his eyes slanting to the side. "It would be if I weren't trapped in this crappy human body. We won't get back before nightfall if my powers don't return sometime soon. Come on," he added gruffly, seeing her open her mouth in a meek apology and feeling a strange need to avoid that path of discourse at all costs. "You can talk while we walk."

He tugged on her arm, pulling her in what he _hoped_ was the right direction. The trees obstructed most of the sky and he had only vague, blurry recollections of the path he had come on. If his powers didn't return, they would probably end up getting hopelessly lost. He didn't feel like indulging that particular possibility, though, much more intent upon getting the information he had been promised.

"So Naraku was never your master," he prompted. "Then how did he end up selling you to Jakotsu?" If this story wasn't juicy, he'd gut himself on Tetsusaiga.

"I suppose it seemed like the most logical thing to do at the time," she retorted with a touch of sarcasm to her voice. "I mean, he'd already murdered the men of my family – why not make some easy money by selling the rest of us into slavery?"

"The rest of you…?" Inuyasha turned wide eyes on the girl, wondering if he had just separated her from other family members. The opportunistic part of his mind immediately pointed out that if there were others, they might have information he could use as well…

"My mother died a year later," Kagome told him, her voice catching and her eyes suspiciously watery. "I had a little brother, too, but I don't know what happened to him – he was only a baby."

"But," he faltered. Not that he couldn't see Naraku murdering people in cold blood then selling off their surviving relatives, but there had to be a reason behind it – the black-hearted bastard wouldn't go to such trouble merely on a whim. "Why? Why would he hone in on your family?" _Or perhaps this was a trend, and hers was simply one of many,_ the suspicious part of his mind suggested.

Kagome, though, averted her eyes, folding her arms into her sleeves as she continued walking. When she did speak, her voice was subdued, disinterested.

"…Have you ever heard of the Shikon no Tama?" she asked.

………

The boy breathed deeply in his sleep, his bandaged chest rising and falling. He had arrived only two days ago, yet he had not awoken in that time, and his injuries seemed to heal sluggishly, as though something held him back from recovery. The woman at his bedside wondered at him being brought to her house, of all places. She knew how to care for the sick and injured, to be sure, but she had not done it for some time and she felt out of practice.

For now, his fever had broken at least. The bandages would need to be changed again later in the evening, and his wounds assessed for any signs of infection. It was the least of her worries at the moment, though.

A figure darkened the doorway, the silhouette one that she knew all too well. No greeting fell from her lips. Instead,

"You used it again," she accused.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Last night," she clarified. "You used it again. When I woke up this morning, it had a tainted aura about it." Her cold gray eyes turned on him, piercing him with a critical stare.

He looked away for a moment, then returned his attention to her, stepping into the room as a muscle rippled along his jaw. She did not shrink from him, though he obviously meant to intimidate her. "My dear Kikyo," he stated, irony in the very words, "I have told you before – how am I to purge the taint from my own soul without the power of the jewel to help me? It was created for that very purpose, after all."

"I've told _you_ before not to use it, Naraku," she stated firmly. "There is something wrong with its aura – warped. I'm not even sure it _can_ purify anymore. It's difficult enough to keep it untainted."

"Have you been having trouble?" he questioned in a guarded tone.

"No," she lied easily. Part of her wanted to scream at him. Of course she was having trouble – a darkness lurked within the jewel's rosy depths, and it took all her power just to keep it at bay, let alone banish it. It certainly didn't help to have demonkind – however well meaning that demonkind might be – handling the object.

"I'm sorry," Naraku spoke, contrition etched into his features, and she almost – _almost_ – believed him. "Last night I thought for certain that I could finally be rid of this… this _pollution_ contaminating my soul. It was foolish of me, but I keep hoping…"

"Just don't do it again," she cut him off, accepting his explanation out of necessity rather than any trust in its sincerity.

He nodded, glanced at the sleeping boy, then left the room without a word.

Kikyo dropped the rag she had been holding, wondering what her husband was up to. This feigned trust between them was like a wall of sand, waiting to crumble at the first opportunity, but maintained for some semblance of security nonetheless. Her life was nothing she had ever planned, and she was half-tempted to seize the cursed jewel and flee into the night. It was not, however, the only object which tied her to this house, she thought dourly, eyes falling on the patient she tended.

A faint scuffling at the door shifted her attention that direction once more, this time to view a boy roughly the same age as the injured one lying before her. "Did he wake up, Mother?" the newcomer asked, voice timid as his gaze shifted between the woman and the recumbent figure.

"No, not yet," came her gentle response.

"Will he?"

It must have been frightening to a child, seeing another of the same age battling for his life. Kikyo nodded, smiling faintly.

"Yes, Sota, he certainly will."

………

"The Jewel of Four Souls," said Kagome, "will give great power to anyone who possesses it. Because it was… dangerous for demonkind to have access to such power, the jewel was given to my family for safekeeping generations ago. We were shrine-keepers," she added in explanation. "I come from a long line of priests and priestesses."

"Yeah, big surprise there," Inuyasha inserted sarcastically, wiggling one set of perfectly normal human fingers at her.

Kagome flushed slightly, but continued her narrative as though no interruption had occurred. "When I was very small, my grandfather began training me to become the jewel's next guardian – I remember him lecturing me for long hours, telling me how the Shikon had to be kept pure, that it must be kept from the hands of evil at all costs. Humans and demons alike wanted to possess its power, and our job was to prevent that.

"He also told me never to speak of the jewel outside our family – I don't think it was generally known that we had it. Our shrine was secluded, and we didn't receive a lot of visitors, just a handful of villagers making a pilgrimage to pray and make their offerings. The jewel was always kept out of sight, though, and heavily warded, but even with the wards, its presence wasn't completely masked – I remember feeling it, like this constant buzzing in the back of my mind. And every so often, a demon would sense its aura and attack, but my father and grandfather would take care of it before it could do any real damage. Our family had done as much for centuries.

"Everything changed when _he_ came, though."

Inuyasha didn't need to ask who _he_ was. The girl had finally come to the information he was craving, and she had his undivided attention.

"I can still remember the first time I saw him," Kagome said, her eyes staring sightlessly ahead. "I was small, maybe five years old, and he terrified me. It was almost as though he was surrounded in darkness, and when he spoke, I felt like a snake had slithered down my spine. He had come to offer prayers. I remember him talking to my father, very polite, and the whole time I wanted to scream for him to go away, but I was too afraid to open my mouth. When he left, I cried out of fear and relief, and my parents didn't know what was wrong with me.

"But then he kept coming back, once a month, twice a month, once a week, until he was there so often that he was like another member of the family. He brought a gift when my brother was born," she laughed bitterly, eyes dull. "I wanted nothing to do with him – my parents used to apologize for my _shyness_. I tried to tell them that something was wrong with him, pleaded with them not to let him come anymore, but I was only a child and they wouldn't listen.

"One day, while he was visiting, a huge demon attacked, tearing down the wards we had placed around the shrine. My father and grandfather went to destroy it, and Naraku followed. I was supposed to be hidden, but instead I was peeking out at the fight – I saw the whole thing. While they were busy with the demon, Naraku… transformed behind them, into a mass of writhing… something – he wasn't human, but somehow he had been able to hide that before. My father was stabbed through the back, my grandfather torn apart. I… I don't remember much after that, just brief images of my mother screaming, and of Naraku taking the jewel from its hiding place – I don't think I'll ever forget the triumphant expression on his face."

She paused; at some point during her story, she had begun to cry, and she dabbed at her tears now as though in some sort of stupor, staring at the resulting wetness on her fingertips as though it were some unknown substance. She shook her head once, and then her blue eyes turned toward her companion. "You know the rest," she stated, voice level. "We were sold to different households, to people that Naraku knew, that didn't care how he had acquired us. My mother wasted away and was dead within the year, and I've heard no news of my little brother since that time. As far as I know, I am the only one left."

Her tale had certainly set a sober atmosphere. Inuyasha wasn't sure what to say, how he could possibly respond. "How long ago was this?" he finally inquired in a subdued voice.

"…Ten years?" Kagome estimated. "I'm not sure of the exact dates – I was so young."

He nodded absently. Ten years put the events roughly at the same time he had been sent to prison. He recalled it being said that Naraku had come and gone from their village as he pleased, but his younger self had simply considered the villain's travels a blessing, since it meant he wasn't hanging around Kikyo in the hanyou's absence. The length of time he had invested in befriending the shrine-keepers showed definite premeditation; whether that extended to Inuyasha's fate – or whether the two were even connected – the hanyou did not know.

Night was fast descending upon the pair; at some point near the end of Kagome's narration, they had stopped walking. Inuyasha was no longer certain that they were headed in the right direction, and it had seemed a bit callous to keep his newly acquired companion moving while she recalled traumatic events. His insensitivity only went so far, after all.

His gaze shifted skyward as he wondered what they should do now. The glow of dusk filtered through the forest canopy, casting heavy shadows upon the ground. They could either continue walking and risk getting horribly lost, or they could set up a sort of makeshift camp for the night and hope to find their way in the morning. He opened his mouth to ask her preference, but his voice caught in his throat as a familiar tingling prickled through his fingertips.

"About bloody time!" he declared, lifting his hand to see the fingernails transform into claws.

Kagome's eyes widened as she watched the change tumble over him. His coloring shifted and his fangs extended; in almost the blink of an eye, it seemed an entirely different person stood before her.

"Now we can finally get somewhere!" Inuyasha announced, breathing in a lung full of air as though it were a novel experience. The girl next to him continued to stare, wordless.

"What?" he asked defensively.

Her eyes seemed to be fixed on his hair, and he did not flinch when she carefully raised one hand as though mesmerized. To his utmost surprise, though, her fingers fell not on his silver-white mane, but his ears, which she proceeded to tweak almost compulsively.

"Keh," he snorted, jerking away from her touch. "Don't do that." He did not, however, miss the faint, delighted smile that flashed across her face; it made him wonder what was wrong with women these days. Rin had reacted in much the same manner, and Jakotsu… not that Jakotsu was a woman, of course, but… well… close enough. At any rate, it was enough to put any self-respecting hanyou ill at ease.

"C'mon, wench," he gruffly said, grabbing her arm and pulling her forward in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. "We have places to be."

Her fingers fell upon his ear once more, but this time they administered a sharp pinch, eliciting a yelp in return.

"I told you not to call me that," Kagome reminded him sweetly.

………

**A/N: Thanks for reading, and double-thanks to all those that take the time to review.**

**Once again I planned too much for this chapter, and I think toward the end I was getting a bit squirrelly, so I do apologize if that came through in the writing (the almost straight narration for the last scene wouldn't be a dead giveaway, would it?).**

**And for those who can't remember what this story was about or how it has progressed prior to this update, I've provided a summary of previous chapters in my LiveJournal, which can be accessed from the Homepage link in my profile. It's not necessarily a _good_ summary, mind you, but it's the thought that counts.**

**Until next time!**

**-Tish**


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